


20 questions

by bevioletskies



Series: twenty questions [1]
Category: Avengers Academy (Video Game), Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Attempt at Humor, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Team Dynamics, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-11-23 20:30:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 118,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11409660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bevioletskies/pseuds/bevioletskies
Summary: Wasp has a new competition in store for the students of Avengers Academy, and there’s money involved. So obviously, Peter and Gamora have to pretend to be a couple in order to win. Wait, what?





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for attempts at 80s references by a 90s baby. Also, the title will make more sense by chapter 4.

“ _Gamora. Psst, **Gamora**. Gam _ \- ”

“What do you  _want_ , Quill?”

“ _What did you get for question twelve?_ ”

Gamora huffed a sigh, brushing her fringe out of her face.  _Honestly_. “Okay, first of all, why are you whispering, and second, aren’t you supposed to be piloting the Milano?” Peter gave her a sheepish look over his messy stack of half-torn notes and dog-eared textbook. He’d been sitting at the communal table for all of thirty seconds, and his stuff had somehow spread to cover all of hers. Gamora yanked her holo-tab out from under his “Poisons and Serums: It’s Just Good Chemistry” book and fixed him with a glare.

“Rocket’s got it covered?” It sounded more like a question. “We’re what, ten minutes away from campus - nothing bad’s going to happen.”

She snorted, her attention turning back to her tablet as she scrolled through her messages. They seemed to be back in the Academy’s wi-fi range again. “You say that like you didn’t get a knife to your gut that one time we had some...surprise cargo. We were all of thirty seconds away from landing.”

“That’s not fair, the ‘surprise cargo’ didn’t have a weapon on her, that knife belonged to  _you_ ,” Peter countered, kicking up his feet onto the table and promptly spraying papers everywhere. “Whoops.”

Another exasperated sigh, although this time from the comm unit from the cockpit. “Are you two done flirtin’ yet? Groot is getting bored up here with me but I don’t need him vomiting from your d’ast foreplay.”

“I am definitely done with Quill for today,” Gamora scowled, moving to scoop up her now-scattered homework. Mantis and Drax, who had been conversing near the observation window, came over to help.

“You should be more careful, Peter,” Mantis said, her voice lilting and gentle as always. Her antennae glowed, illuminating her face, and Peter couldn’t help but wonder if she was using her powers on him or the others.

“He is never careful,” Drax nodded sagely, as if he were bestowing a great wisdom upon the group. “It is why I question his position as our leader. Constantly.”

“You’re a real pal, Drax,” Peter said cheerfully, reaching for Gamora’s tablet. “Hey, we’ve got a message from Jan.”

“You mean  _I_  have a message from Jan,” Gamora said, snatching it out of his hands, ignoring his feeble protests. Peter watched as Gamora scrolled deftly through what was apparently an incredible long text, muttering under her breath in incomprehensible sentences. “She’s asking if we’ll be back soon, Director Fury will be making a school-wide announcement in the quad in half an hour.”

“Five minutes!” Rocket called, as Groot came sliding down the ladder like a fireman’s pole, a gleeful squeal emitting from his tiny mouth.

“I am Groot!” he said cheerfully, reaching to tap Gamora on the calf. She set him down on her shoulder before resuming her task. Janet’s message seemed endless, and as much as she secretly liked the ever-so-cheerful Wasp, Gamora had little tolerance for natter.

“She said if we need motivation to hurry up, there’s money involved,” Gamora continued, and she didn’t need to look up to know the others had suddenly started paying more attention. “A lot of money.”

“I can make it two!”

“Wait - Rocket -  _don’t_  - ”

* * *

“Well, we made it, didn’t we?”

“The emergency booster was totally unnecessary, dude. We had like, twenty minutes to spare.” Peter inspected the new scratches on the Milano. “My poor baby. We just got a fresh paint job, like, a month ago.”

“At least the wings are still attached. Small mercies,” Gamora commented as she made her way down the boarding ramp, Groot happily bouncing away on her shoulder, his little fingers weaved through her hair.

Avengers Academy seemed to be in its usual paradoxical state of chaotic calm, as always. Some students were wandering aimlessly, stopping every now and then to observe their surroundings and fellow classmates, while others were hard at work. SHIELD HQ seemed to be particularly overrun with students today, as was Professor Pym’s laboratory. Peter let out a startled yelp when America Chavez suddenly jumped out of a portal two feet in front of his face.

“Sorry, been busy!” she yelled before disappearing again. As Peter clutched his chest to calm his hammering heartbeat, Stephen Strange zipped by, nearly crashing into him.

“By the Eye of Agamotto! My apologies, Peter, I didn’t see you there!” Stephen exclaimed. “You’re back just in time for the Director’s announcement.”

“Uh huh,” Peter gasped weakly in an attempt to catch his breath. “What’s it all about?”

“We don’t know yet,” Stephen shrugged, “but I look forward to it!” With that, he zipped off, cheerfully whistling what suspiciously sounded like  _The X-Files_  theme song.

“Man, people here are weird. And we’ve battled aliens,” Peter said, turning to his team, only to find they had already resumed walking towards the quad. “Wait - guys - ”

* * *

The quad was unusually packed for a weekday afternoon, especially considering there was no invasion or takeover or general nonsense currently in progress. Students milled about, a comfortable buzz of idle chatter growing louder and louder as everyone speculated about what could possibly be happening that required a school-wide meeting.

“We really need a proper assembly room for these kinds of things, Director,” Pepper muttered as she peered out the window of Avengers Hall, clutching her binder anxiously. “With this many personalities on campus, we’re lucky no one’s started any physical altercations yet.”

“Taskmaster seems ready to go at any moment’s notice, if you ask me,” Fury drawled, standing up from behind his desk. “Is it time?”

“Ready when you are, sir. Fire away,” Pepper beamed, pushing open the front doors.

* * *

The Guardians pushed their way through the crowd in a hasty attempt to find Nebula and Yondu. Though the two were definitely not fond of each other, they often had to hang out by default when they were left out of Guardians missions on Fury’s orders, insisting they had to learn how to play nice before officially taking jobs.

“I do not want to be surprised by this announcement, especially since I don’t know how Nebula will take it,” Gamora said firmly, yanking Peter by the wrist.

“And with money involved, who knows what Yondu’s gonna do,” Peter replied, trying not to focus on the warmth of Gamora’s hand. “I mean, I already have to be worried about Rocket.”

“Watch your mouth, Star-Munch, before I break your - ”

“Break my kneecaps, I got it!” Peter said loudly. A few students turned to look at him curiously. “Seriously, you’ve been threatening that all year. What is with the kneecaps? Is it because that’s the highest place you can reach?”

Rocket let out a feral snarl and leaped, claws fully extracted, until Drax reached out to snag him by the back of his vest. “Cease this fighting! It will not do us any good in finding our friends.”

“Need me to find something for you?” A new, rather bored-sounding voice, came from above. Their heads turned to see Jessica Jones, sitting on the roof of Club A, her trusted binoculars in hand. “If you’re looking for Blue Man Group, they’re all the way at the benches, trying  _real_  hard not to kill each other. I give it five minutes.”

“Thank you!” Mantis called, and they were off again, practically breaking into a sprint, relieved when they spotted Yondu’s rather obnoxious (in Peter’s opinion) fin. “Hello, friends! We have returned.”

“Hey, bug-girl,” Yondu greeted with a nod, while Nebula eyed them darkly in silence. Gamora let go of Peter to stand near her.

“Have you been good, sister?” Gamora said as politely as she could manage, though her fingers were dancing along the handle of the Godslayer, which was otherwise tucked neatly into her belt.

“Do not patronize me,” Nebula snapped. “What are we all doing here? This is a waste of time.”

“Shh, he’s coming,” Peter exclaimed, pointing at the door of the Avengers Hall.

Nick Fury swept out in the only way he knew how - dramatically, his leather longcoat fluttering behind him in response to a non-existent wind machine. Pepper followed him, a brisk stride in her step and stacks of binders and folders in her arms. Janet, who was standing nearby, chatting animatedly with Tony Stark at the bulletin board, flitted over to join them, a huge grin on her face.

Silence fell over the crowd, a nervous buzz of tension in the air. “Students,” Fury boomed, the power of his voice resonating in everyone’s chest. There was a reason he was the director of SHIELD and Avengers Academy. “You’re probably wondering what’s going on. Is there some sort of alien invasion? A hostile takeover? Some general nonsense taking place? Well, for once?"

He paused (dramatically). “Not today.” There was a collective sigh of relief. After the last battle, the students were really not in the mood for training, or portals, or god forbid, bots. “Today, we’re finally gonna promote this school the way we should. Not with stories of saving the city, or the world, or even the galaxy - ” Peter shivered a little at that “ - but with a good old-fashioned contest!”

Brows furrowed in confusion. Students turned to each other to exchange baffled looks. Fury’s jaw clenched - he really did not want to deal with this today - and Pepper quickly stepped forward to tap Janet on the shoulder. “Go!” she whispered.

“What Director Fury means is, it’s that time of year. You know, when the school year is wrapping up, and even though we go to school year round and don’t really get a summer break, let’s just pretend a second, okay?” Janet beamed at all of them, and it seemed to satiate everyone. Who didn’t adore Janet? Even Nebula felt the corners of her mouth twitch. “But just because we’re a different kind of school, doesn’t mean we can forgo school traditions. So, I came up with this totally awesome idea - with Tony’s help, of course - to have a yearbook in which we nominate people for different superlatives, and make it available to the public to help humanize us and show them that us superheroes are people, too!”

Excited chatter immediately broke out, immediately drowning out Janet as she attempted to continue her speech. Peter turned to look at his team, and was surprised to see the others (bar Nebula) nodding along. Even Gamora looked impressed.

“It is a good idea,” she admitted. “This school hasn’t had the best impression on the public.”

“Since when do you care about what other people think?” Rocket said, his arms folded.

Gamora shrugged. “Earth isn’t quite as horrible as everyone says. It will be hard to continue saving it if people aren’t receptive to our presence, especially  _us_.”

“Terra don’t pay so well, though,” Rocket reminded her, baring his teeth.

“MONEY!” Janet hollered, as if she had heard Rocket, and that seemed to have shut everyone up again. “Um, I know you were all told there would be money involved, and there is! Tony has generously agreed to fund this little yearbook project of mine, and hopefully motivate you all to participate so we can have a true reflection of our school presented to the world. Each student will receive five hundred units for submitting a nomination form, and five hundred units for submitting a voting ballot.”

She paused to let her words sink in, her grin growing even wider as she observed the elation beginning to form. “Furthermore, we’re hoping this will encourage everyone to discover what truly makes them special and embrace it! Everyone who wins an individual award will be awarded five thousand units, everyone who wins a pairs award will be awarded ten thousand units, and…”

Another dramatic pause (she had been spending too much time with Fury), and Janet let out a near-delirious squeal mixed with an exhale, resulting in her nearly choking on her own breath. “...everyone who wins a group-slash-team award will be awarded fifty! Thousand! UNITS!”

“Oh shit,” Peter said, awed, turning to clutch at Drax and Gamora’s arms (he had learned the hard way to never grab Nebula, no matter how much initial eye contact they were making). “We wouldn’t have to take a job for like,  _months_  with that kind of money! We might actually have time to study!”

“You do pretty much nothing every single day regardless of our job prospects,” Gamora reminded him, though there was a brightness in her eyes that suggested she was just as thrilled as he was. “We must win, Quill. The Milano needs repairs, and we need new equipment for Club Galaxy and the Combat Simulator.”

“Maybe if you stopped destroying the dummies every time you used it,” Rocket muttered under his breath.

“I will go get the nomination forms from Janet,” Mantis announced loudly, expertly weaving herself between Gamora and Rocket, her antennae hastily lighting up. The two let out dramatic exhales, giving Peter the impression that Mantis had literally pulled their impending anger out of their breaths.  _I should really remind her to do that whenever Gamora’s mad at me_ , Peter thought.

“What kind of categories are there?” Falcon called out from somewhere in the back.

“Yes, I wish to know the many ways in which I can be superior to all of you,” Enchantress added from where she was perfectly perched on one of the benches, inviting everyone’s gaze to turn to her. To her frustration, barely anyone bothered to look.

“Oh, plenty!” Janet said enthusiastically, waving her papers around and sending a few flying. Pepper was cringing behind her. “We’ve got your typical categories like Most Likely to Be President, Best Hair, Nicest Smile, but then we’ve got ones unique to our school like Best Weapons Designer and Most Likely to Set the Entire School on Fire!”

“My money’s on Ghost Rider for that last one,” Peter muttered, causing Drax to furrow his eyebrows in confusion.

“You have left money with the Ghost Rider? That is irresponsible,” Drax commented. “His flames would instantly render them to ash.”

“I - no - never mind. Oh, Mantis is back.”

Mantis smiled brightly at them as she passed out the forms to each team member, even folding one up into a tiny ball so she could stick it in Groot’s uniform pocket. Nebula practically snatched it out of Mantis’s hands, and Peter briefly wondered if she was capable of doing anything non-aggressively.

“This will be so fun,” Mantis said cheerily. “Janet has informed me that Director Fury has given everyone the rest of the day off to begin working on the forms. They are to be handed in to Pepper by the end of the week.”

“Let’s head back to the Milano and get these done, then. Shall we?” Peter extended an arm to his adoptive sister, who accepted it with a hearty “Yay!”, and then held out his other for Gamora, who looked unimpressed. She instead opted to grab Nebula by the wrist and lead the way back to their ship.

“You will  _not_  submit my name for anything as a joke,” Gamora informed her sister.

“Try and stop me,” Nebula sneered. Oh, this was going to be a fun time had by all.

* * *

“Are we seriously trying to nominate ourselves for every single category here? That’s not even possible,” Peter said patiently. The team was now seated at the communal table (he had long given up calling it the dining table after Drax decided it was a good place to leave his dirt-covered boots and daggers), blank forms in front of them, teasing the potential of the easiest money they could ever make.

“I’m sorry, are you  _trying_  to deprive us of units? We need money, Quill,” Rocket snapped, deftly twirling a pencil between his claws. Groot was sitting on his shoulder, nodding empathetically. “The more chances, the better.”

As explained on the form, students were allowed to nominate themselves in as many categories as they’d liked, but were only allowed one form each. If a student, pair, or group were nominated more than once for a specific category, each additional nomination would count as “headstart” votes. Upon understanding this, the team had taken it upon themselves to fill out their forms in an identical manner to give themselves any boost they possibly could. Hey, they didn’t become the Guardians of the freaking Galaxy by playing nice all the time.

“I suggest we do this systematically,” Drax volunteered. “Let us work our way from the top down and agree on who would be the best choice for each category.”

“How diplomatic of you,” Rocket commented sarcastically. Then he frowned. “But I guess that’ll work. What’s first?”

“Best Dancer, because this school is ridiculous,” Gamora sighed. She was already growing bored, doodling in the margins of her form. She had been hoping to spend her evening in the Arena of War, training with Ares. “It will not be me. I don’t dance. I rock.”

“We can put you down for Best Musician then,” Peter offered. Then he grinned salaciously. “But obviously,  _I’m_  going to be our nominee for Best Dancer.”

“I am Groot!”

“I’m sorry, Groot, you’re pretty good too,” Peter said, reaching to pat Groot’s cheek. “But, I mean, come on, guys. Aliens tell me I'm an  _excellent_  dancer. I think. Sometimes I...don't really know what they're saying.”

As if on cue, the entire group groaned. They were going to be here a while.

* * *

An agonizing four hours later, Drax and Mantis set out plates and cutlery for everyone and began portioning out some mysterious casserole for their dinner. Yondu was fast asleep on the couch, having given up long ago on fighting with “them d’ast fools”, and Nebula was, for some reason, putting Rocket in a headlock.

“Nebula, no!” Mantis cried, her antennae pointing aggressively at the pair. “We must complete our mission. Do not get distracted with anger. Please.”

Nebula released Rocket, though she grumbled as Rocket exaggeratedly coughed his lungs out. “Geez, lady. You gotta be kidding me!” Nebula ignored him in favour of snatching up her plate and shoveling food in her mouth with her hands, foregoing the offered fork and spoon. Gamora’s expression softened a little as she watched her sister eat, remembering the way they had fought over scraps as children. It was not surprising that Nebula was still protective over every bite.

“We are down to the last few pairs categories,” Gamora said to Drax and Mantis as the two joined them at the table. “Best Siblings, Best Double Act, and Cutest Couple.”

“Easy,” Peter said through a mouthful of what he was pretending was chicken. “Me and Mantis are obviously Best Siblings - no offense, Nebula, but you and Gamora aren’t exactly the Brady Bunch - and Groot and Rocket are Best Double Act.” Nebula got up and left for her room, no longer wanting to keep up the pretense of her participation, clutching her plate to her chest as if it were a baby.

“That still leaves Cutest Couple,” Gamora pointed out. “Although we knew from the beginning it would not be a possible category for anyone on our team. No one is in a relationship.”

“I dated Carol,” Peter reminded her, watching her face carefully to see how she would react.

“You went on  _a_  date with Carol,” Rocket corrected him with a shit-eating grin. “Then you had to go and do that thing. Why’d you have to do that, Quill? Huh?”

“Don’t remind me,” Peter said, clenching his teeth. “Alright, so we don’t have a couple. Is that such a big deal?”

“That puts us out of a potential ten thousand units, so yes, it’s a big freaking deal,” Rocket shot back. “There’s only one thing we can do, then. Two suckers gotta pretend to be the cutest d’ast couple Terra’s ever seen until the yearbooks come out, and that ain’t for another three months.”

“Please tell me you’re joking.” Gamora looked absolutely flabbergasted. “That is an awful idea.”

“You’re just worried I’m gonna suggest it should be you and Quill,” Rocket grinned. Groot, who had been drifting off a little (it was getting close to his bedtime), suddenly perked up and began waving his arms up and down.

“I am Groot! I am Groot!” Gamora eyed him suspiciously.

“Groot says that would, in fact, be a great idea,” Rocket translated, leaning forward to rest his chin on his paws as if to mock her. “And I think so too - thanks, Groot - because if anyone’s gonna be believable, it’ll be you guys.”

“What about Drax and Mantis?” Gamora suggested, turning to look at them with a rather uncharacteristic desperation in her eyes. “They spend more time in each other’s company.”

“I believe we have established I find Mantis entirely repulsive.” Drax folded his hands together neatly on the table in an attempt to appear diplomatic. Mantis was nodding enthusiastically beside him. “I would not be able to uphold the ruse. Mantis is simply my good friend, as my urge to vomit when picturing us together - physically - will be too great.”

“I don’t know whether to be upset or happy that you’re talking about my sister that way,” Peter said in a half-heartedly cheerful tone. He had also started acting oddly since Rocket’s suggestion. Gamora looked down at her food, wondering if it had gone bad and caused Peter to sound strangely subdued. “I mean, Rocket’s kind of right. No one’s gonna believe Nebula or Yondu would date anyone, Rocket and Groot kind of...can’t, so that basically leaves us.”

Peter turned to look at Gamora properly for the first time since the beginning of the incredibly uncomfortable conversation. She looked...nervous. The last time she had looked like that was right before they had crashed onto Terra upon escaping the Cosmic Conservatory, when she later confessed to him that she had been scared she was going to die. What about this was so comparable to that? Was the prospect of fake-dating him  _really_  that terrifying to her? Peter opened his mouth, ready to find some way to get them out of this - he may be an a-hole, but Gamora was his friend, and he wasn’t in the business of making her uncomfortable - when she cut him off.

“I suppose I could pretend. Ten thousand units will do nicely,” Gamora said, sounding like she was trying her hardest to convince herself it would be worth it. “Besides, it’s not as if we’ll  _really_  be dating.”

“Wow, tell me how you really feel,” Peter said jokingly, the tension slowly evaporating out of the room. He set his fork down. “We just have to be the cutest couple ever. Like, Baby and Johnny. Or Westley and Buttercup! I could totally be The Man in Black.”

Drax frowned. “I thought that was the name given to Murdock before he became known as Daredevil.”

“Are you referring to those movies you showed me on your VPS tapes?” Gamora questioned, ignoring Drax’s inane statement.

“VHS tapes, and yeah,” Peter replied. The oddly gooey feeling resonating in his chest at the notion of Gamora remembering one of his favourite moments with her was ruined with the realization that the others were eyeing them differently. “Um, what’s up, guys?”

“You guys have movie nights?  _Date_  nights?” Rocket sounded like he was trying his hardest not to giggle like a schoolgirl. Or cackle like a super villain. It was hard to tell with him sometimes.

To Peter’s surprise, Gamora appeared to be flushed, as if the prospect of date nights were ludicrous to her. Her cheeks were tinged a slightly darker green than usual. She hastily stood with a white-knuckled grip on her plate and cup, nearly knocking over Mantis’s table setting in the process. Moving to the sink, Gamora said, “No, I was simply curious about the differences between Quill’s music tapes and those other ones he leaves lying around.  _He_  insisted on showing me those films.” Her dishes clattered loudly in the sink. “Have we agreed on Quill and I being the couple? Because I would like to move on and discuss the upgrades that Stark has offered us for the Milano. We have spent far too long on this.”

“Smartest thing you ever said, girlie,” Yondu said from the couch. His eyes were still closed, an impish grin on his face.

* * *

As the night crept in, it became too late for the Guardians to head back to the dorms, so they opted to retreat to their tiny rooms on the Milano. Gamora was slightly worried when she realized she and Peter were on cleaning-and-lockdown duty, but Peter was surprisingly quiet throughout, not once making a joke or attempting to dance.

When they shut off the lights and activated the security system on the main deck, Peter finally spoke up. “Gamora, if you don't want to do this…”

“Rocket is right,” Gamora interrupted, reaching to undo her ponytail. “Besides, how difficult can it be? There is a lot of flirtation on this campus - a given, considering the nature of Terran culture - but not a lot of actual couples. It will be significantly less competition than that of other categories.”

“I dunno,” Peter said, looking at his feet. “You've got Luke and Jessica. Danny and Misty. Matt and Elektra, kind of. And don't get me started on how badass AND cute Billy and Teddy or Cap and Peggy look together.”

“We could beat them,” Gamora said breezily, her usual air of confidence finding its way back. “I should go to bed, but we should discuss this tomorrow after class. We need to get a plan together.”

Peter nodded, smiling his slightly lopsided smile at her. It was different than the cheesy smirk he usually gave people, but Gamora couldn't put her finger on what it was. “Sure. Night, Gamora.” He gave her an odd two finger salute before heading down to his room.

“Goodnight,” she said softly to the empty room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! I haven’t written fic in six years so constructive criticism is welcome but please be gentle. 
> 
> This is my way of dropping the MCU Guardians into the Avengers Academy universe, but for those unfamiliar with the game and are kinda confused about what's going on, please check out my additional notes [here](http://bevioletskies.tumblr.com/post/162634218894/20-questions-1) or comment/message me!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so, the con begins! Peter and Gamora discuss the origins of their (fake) relationship, Gamora has a girls’ night, and Yondu has some tough love to give.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The basic plot of Guardians Vol. 2 happened in this mashup universe of mine and is brought up in detail here, so **spoilers** if you haven’t seen it yet (but please go watch it, it’s an incredible movie).

To Gamora’s relief, everyone woke up at different times, avoiding any residual awkwardness from last night’s discussion. However, she hadn't counted on Nebula waiting to catch her right outside the shower.

“Nebula - I am in a _towel_ \- ”

“What is this nonsense I'm hearing about you and Quill?” Her pitch-black eyes seemed darker than usual. “Have you become too attached, sister?”

“Relax,” Gamora said, her own stomach tensing up. She really needed breakfast, not an interrogation. “It is part of the ploy for units.”

“Is that all?” Nebula said mockingly, an unsettling grin creeping across her face. “You have grown so fond of your Guardians, but Quill in particular has become a fixation of yours.”

“I consider him a friend,” Gamora said carefully. “A friend who I constantly threaten with a blade. Never a romantic prospect, no.” She sniffed, yanking her arm out of Nebula’s grip. “If you will excuse me, I need to get dressed. I have a lecture with the All-Father in thirty minutes, and I have no plans to get locked out of the Bifrost.” 

* * *

As Peter ambled along the pathways of the Academy, occasionally pausing to twirl in time to his music, he couldn’t help but feel like someone was watching him. He perked up. Could his moves finally be attracting some wanted attention?

“Star-Lord!” someone called. Ooh, a female voice. His head snapped up, a roguish grin plastered on his face as he removed his headphones, and unceremoniously found a microphone shoved into his face.

“Oh, it’s Patsy,” Peter said weakly, trying his best not to sound disappointed. Not that he wasn’t excited to see Hellcat - it was just that he wasn’t planning on getting ambushed for an interview today. He did his best to give her a charming wink and smile. “What can I do for you?”

She seemed unfazed by his switch in attitude. “Is it true that you and Gamora are dating?”

“I - what? How did...how did you hear about that?” Peter awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, wondering if this was a situation he could dance his way out of.

“Pepper informed me that the Guardians submitted their nomination forms this morning - in record time, by the way, I think the only other person more enthusiastic about this whole ordeal was Kamala - and noticed that you all put you and Gamora for Cutest Couple. Even Janet was surprised - she had no idea! What do you say to that?”

“Well.” Peter coughed, fumbling with the buttons on his Walkman. Dammit, he really should know by now how to escape a situation that didn’t welcome combat or his gun-slinging expertise. “Y’know, it’s something we’ve been wanting to tell people - so the _ladies_ know I’m no longer available - but Gamora’s not a super PDA-y person. This seemed like the perfect opportunity to make it known.”

Patsy scoffed a little at Peter’s comment, but gave him a good-natured pat on the arm. “I’m happy for you two,” she said, a genuine warmth in her voice. “Oh, there she is now!”

“Wha - ” Peter spun to find Gamora practically sprinting towards him, her bookbag flying about behind her. He could practically hear the clatter of various knives rattling about inside. “Uh, hey, _babe_. You okay?”

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Gamora snapped, apparently not in the mood to play. “You were supposed to meet me at the Milano at 4 PM, remember?” She grabbed him by the bicep and dragged, putting on no pretense that she was going to even acknowledge Patsy’s presence.

“Uh - sorry - I can give you a full interview if you call me at - ” But Peter was gone.

Patsy turned towards the camera with a shrug. “Cheese and crackers,” she said, eyes wide. “That was interesting.”

* * *

Gamora stomped in silence all the way back to the ship, though Peter tried his best (and failed) to get her to talk. When they boarded the Milano, Peter moved towards the communal table, but Gamora clicked her tongue disapprovingly and pointed towards Peter’s bedroom door.

“Well, if you insist - _ow_!” Peter rubbed at his arm, holding up his hands in defeat. He ambled towards his room. “I’m sorry, Gamora, I totally lost track of time.”

To his surprise, she let out a defeated sigh, the tensing in her shoulders releasing as she followed him in and closed the door. “It’s okay. I just - we needed to talk about the details of this ruse of ours before we officially tell anyone else.”

“Well then maybe, we shouldn’t have submitted the forms so soon. Who did that, anyways?” Peter set his Walkman and headphones down on his bedside table, the quiet strains of _Fooled Around and Fell in Love_ filling the room.

Gamora eyed the Walkman suspiciously as if it were about to bite before settling herself down at the foot of his bed. “My guess is Rocket intends to make this more difficult for us for...what was that phrase you used?”

“Shits and giggles.” Peter nodded seriously.

“That sounds like a disease,” Gamora informed him. “Regardless, we have to come up with a story, quick. I imagine people like Patsy and Janet will want to know how we started dating and for how long.”

Peter settled in next to her, the warmth of his body radiating heat through where their shoulders were touching. Gamora wondered if he was even aware of how close he was. She had never understood the need for tactile interaction until that night Peter had offered to show her one of his films from his childhood, their legs pressed together side-by-side as they had squished into his bed. Ever since then, he had gotten quite comfortable at sitting close to her or touching her arm to get her attention. It was different than the way she grabbed him out of urgency or heat-of-the-moment anger. It was...gentle. Comforting, even.

“Ha!” Peter’s sudden exclamation startled her out of her derailing train of thought. He was holding up his holo-tab to her face, showing her a picture of...was that Ego the Living Planet?

“What does that have to do with anything?” she asked confusedly, though she reached for the tablet regardless.

“Four months ago, we...well, killed my dad.” Peter cleared his throat, suddenly sobering up from his unbridled joy. “It was an emotional moment, obviously. Led me to reflect on the people I had in my life and what they meant to me. Not to mention the most badass woman I know saved me from being used as a freaking battery for the next few millennia. So, after the battle was over, I told you I had a huge crush on you, and somehow, it turns out you felt the same way. We kissed, there was legit fireworks, and boom. Dating.”

Gamora stared at him for a moment before glancing back at the tablet. As requested by Director Fury, they had noted down every last detail of every mission into their reports (sometimes leaving things out to save their own asses, in all honesty. He didn’t need to know what Peter’s favour to Yondu was when they were doing a recovery mission on Contraxia). The most difficult mission the Guardians had taken on so far was bringing down Ego, as the other Academy students were too far away to call on for assistance, leaving them utterly alone. Although they were still apprehensive about their effectiveness as a team at the time, it was the realization that they were stronger as a family that had solidified their relationships with each other. Peter had been emotionally wrecked for at least a week afterwards, and even Rocket had left him alone to grieve for his mother all over again.

It was, in fact, the perfect plan. She could almost see Peter, in his melancholic, reflective state of mind, asking Gamora to meet him on the observation deck at midnight to tell her something important. Something he hadn’t really thought of before, but realized in the heat of the moment, in the seemingly endless void he had briefly been a part of as Ego had suspended him with “the light”. She could also imagine herself responding in kind, as the fight with Ego made her realize how important Peter was to her life, and the capacity in which she wanted to keep him there.

“That is...pretty smart, actually,” Gamora admitted, handing the tablet back. Peter pumped a fist in the air in victory. “It is short, to the point, and emotionally charged. I imagine Janet will cry when she hears it.”

“Exactly,” Peter nodded. “It doesn’t need extra details, it’s got death and tears and _fireworks_. It’s super romantic, right?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Gamora said quietly. Then she straightened up. “Four months then? Are there other things you think people will ask us about?”

“Knowing Janet? _Everything_ ,” Peter laughed. “She’s gonna dedicate like, fifty Instagram posts to us. Hashtag-relationship-goals.” He pulled up Janet’s blog. “What we do for dates, what our favourite things about each other are. I mean, we’re not just faking being a couple to fake being a couple, we have to be the _cutest_ couple. Let’s start a list.”

“What do people usually do on dates?” Gamora asked, leaning over to scroll through the hundreds of posts Janet somehow had the time to make. “When you and I spend time together, it is usually combat training, studying, and missions.”

“We could say those are all forms of dates,” Peter said carefully. “Plus, y’know, listening to music. Watching movies.” His eyes widened so quickly that Gamora became briefly concerned they were to about to pop out of his skull. “I can tell people I got you to _dance_!”

“I thought we were trying to be realistic here, Quill,” Gamora said, narrowing her eyes at him. To her disappointment, that merely surprised a laugh out of him.

“Wait, are you really going to keep calling me Quill?” Peter said through his chuckles. “We have the opportunity for ridiculous pet names here.”

Gamora turned away in exasperation, only to find Peter’s room catching her attention in the process. She had only been in here a handful of times - Groot and Mantis tended to enjoy hanging out with Peter in here, whereas it seemed too intimate at times for her tastes - but he seemed to have decorated even more since the last time. His collection of 80s memorabilia was neatly laid out on the shelf above his headboard, a stark contrast to the haphazardness of the rest of his decor. Posters, stickers, photos, news clippings, all plastered along his walls, gifted to him from the other Terran students to help him catch up on their culture. The majority of the posters of attractive women, she suspected, were from Stark. On the wall locker Peter used to store his clothes, was that…?

“You have photos of us. The team,” she added hastily. Gamora remembered that day well - soon after being accepted into the Academy, Janet had taught the Guardians about social media and the importance of selfies. Peter was the only one who took interest, and managed to get a picture with each of his teammates. Drax was staring off at the wrong spot, Rocket was snarling at Peter, Groot was waving happily to the camera, Mantis was doing an awful impression of a smile, and in his photo with her…he was looking at Gamora instead of the camera, an odd expression on his face.

Next to that picture was an old, yellowed photo of Peter and his mother. Gamora had never seen it before, though she could recall the moments in which Peter described his mother and how beautiful she was, inside and out. She could definitely agree - blonde curls, bluer-than-blue eyes, and a sunny grin that positively radiated light. _She was the light inside Quill, not Ego_ , Gamora thought to herself, turning back to look at him. “She is very pretty,” she said, gesturing at the picture.

“She was amazing,” Peter replied, smiling fondly. “I uh, don’t know if I ever told you guys this. My mom, she called me her little Star-Lord. I have a feeling she knew what my dad really was, since she told me I came from the stars.”

Gamora’s face softened. “That’s sweet. Although I suppose she would hate to know what your father’s true nature meant for you.”

Peter shrugged. “Not something I really want to dwell on. So, pet names? I’m a nickname kind of guy. I’ll probably just call you whatever pops into my head.”

“I call you Star-Lord sometimes, though mostly out of annoyance. It will not be a stretch for me to use it fondly as well,” Gamora suggested. “If people ask, I can explain its significance to your close relationship with your mother. I wish to honor her in our relationship by calling you that as well.”

He nodded, finally setting down the tablet. “Sure, sure. And uh, favourite things about each other? I can start.” Gamora nodded at him to continue. “Um. Okay. I think you’ve got really pretty hair. I admire how strong you are in battle, and how fiercely protective you are of your team and your sister. You’re also a freaking rockstar when you’re up on stage, even though we don’t have the same taste in music. And also, you’re secretly kind of funny. And nice.”

She felt herself gaping at him in shock, wondering how much of it was true. Gamora had expected him to make a lewd comment about her looks and a throwaway statement about her fighting prowess, not... _this_ , this thoughtful, generous commentary on her as a person. Maybe Peter wasn’t such a hopeless case after all. “And how about me? Too many to count?” He grinned at her. Okay, never mind.

“You are the emotional centre of our group,” Gamora said carefully, staring down at the silver rings that adorned her fingers. She had no desire to put all her cards on the table. “You provide a breath of fresh air to our lives, especially when we have all suffered such hardships. I appreciate your ability to help us feel deserving of redemption.” She paused, letting her words sink in. She could practically feel Peter’s doe-eyed stare again. “You are also not terrible-looking.”

“Score,” Peter said, twirling a finger in the air as if to wave a flag. “I’m not terrible-looking!”

“Hush.” Gamora couldn’t help but chuckle at his enthusiasm. “You have a low standard for compliments, don’t you?” She stood, stretching, in hopes that the conversation could soon be over. She was starting to feel...things. “Public displays will not be initiated by you, only me. People expect me to be distant, and it will be more surprising - and romantic - to see me opting to hold your hand or kiss your cheek. Plus, I don’t want to run the risk of accidentally impaling you if you try to touch me.”

Peter wisely didn’t point out the fact he often grabbed her arm in public already, and nodded. “Smart. Maybe _you_ should run strategy on the next mission.”

Gamora rolled her eyes as she opened the door. “I practically do anyways. Your ‘twelve-percent-of-a-plan’ business was getting old.” The door slid shut before he could protest.

* * *

Hours later, Gamora found herself standing outside Janet’s dorm room, her hand hovering over the door with a sense of hesitancy. Wasp often hosted “girls’ nights” and had invited the women of the Guardians, but Nebula had predictably said no, and Mantis had to remain on the Milano to look after Groot, who had thrown a tantrum for unknown reasons and required Mantis’s gentle care.

 _They will definitely ask me about Quill_ , Gamora thought resignedly. _At least our story is straight. Time to campaign for Cutest Couple, starting now_.

Before she could knock, the door swung open, revealing the unimpressed face of one Natasha Romanoff. Gamora was slightly relieved, to be honest - Natasha was one of the few non-Guardian friends she had made here, as they shared more similarities than she expected. “Gamora,” she greeted monotonously, stepping aside to let her in.

Janet’s dorm room was enormous, having talked Fury’s ear off until she got an entire four-person bedroom to herself. Not that Janet was selfish, no, she just wanted space for sleepovers and get-togethers like this. Gamora suspected she would become better at negotiations than the Director himself someday. There was a garish amount of yellow everywhere, from the bedspread to the paintings of bees, flowers, and sunsets. It honestly hurt her eyes a little bit.

Upon glancing around the room, Gamora spotted Patsy, Kamala, Jessica Drew, Daisy, and strangely enough, Elektra. Was this secretly an assassin’s club meeting?

Janet burst out of her ensuite bathroom, inexplicably wearing a fluffy yellow feather boa and a straw sunhat. “Gamora, you came!” she said happily. “Oh good, now the party can really get started. Sit, sit.”

Gamora found herself squished between Natasha and Elektra, who was staring at her reflection in one of her sai. “Can we get started already? I’m bored. You won’t like me when I’m bored.” She swung her dark hair out of her face, nearly hitting Gamora in the eye, her multitude of silver bangles clacking away on her arm. “Matthew tells me I’m dangerous when I’m bored.”

“You’re dangerous all the time!” Janet said cheerfully, settling down on one of her enormous yellow beanbags and removing her extraneous accessories. “Alright, ladies. Let’s discuss who we wrote in for our nominations.”

“Is that what this is about? You promised me that Tony had new stingers ready,” Natasha said, frowning.

“Later.” Janet waved a dismissive hand. “Who wants to start? Kamala?”

“I have too many ships,” Kamala said sadly, looking down at the list she had copied out from her form. “It took longer than I expected. But I did write down Captain America and Captain Marvel for Cutest Couple, even though it’s not technically canon.”

“I understood about half of what you said,” Jessica said amusedly, picking at her nails.

“I don’t know if that nomination will count, but it’s a good effort.” Janet clapped her hands together. “What did everyone else put for Cutest Couple?”

“My sister and Luke, obviously,” Patsy grinned. “She adores him, even though she refuses to say it out loud.”

“I didn’t put anyone,” Jessica admitted. “I was more interested in the other categories.”

“Same,” Daisy said quietly, and Gamora felt a moment of pity for her. She seemed oddly distant from the entire student body, even in Gamora’s eyes. Janet had been trying to break her out of her shell since her arrival, but her efforts could only accomplish so much.

“Myself and Matthew.” Elektra tipped her chin forward as if to dare the others to question her. “We have had interesting dates on the roof of SHIELD HQ. You wouldn’t believe the gossip we hear sometimes.”

“Cap and Agent Carter,” Natasha volunteered reluctantly when Janet fixed her with a challenging stare. Wasp then turned to look at Gamora, who felt herself shriveling up inside.

“I wrote myself and my boyfriend,” Gamora said, the word tasting foreign on her tongue.

There was a sudden flurry of noise and movement as everyone leapt up in surprise. Gamora had to duck as Elektra nearly impaled her thigh with a dagger in alarm. A high-pitched shriek emanated from the other side of the room, and she wasn’t sure if it was Janet, Kamala, or both in an attempt to wake up the whole building.

“OTP!” Kamala squealed. “Ohmigosh, you and Peter, right?!”

“I - yes?” Gamora eyed the other girl suspiciously. “Do I want to know what OTP means?”

“You don’t,” Natasha said firmly, patting Gamora’s shoulder. “I didn’t know you and Quill were together.”

“It is something we recently decided to be truthful about,” Gamora said, twisting her rings absent-mindedly as she spoke. “I was apprehensive about making it public since I wasn’t sure if it would last, but I think we’ve proven to each other that we’re a good match.”

“How did it happen?” Daisy’s shy voice caused the rest of the group to fall silent in anticipation.

“Well, do you all remember the mission from about four months ago, when we had to defeat Ego the Living Planet?” Nods of scarily well-timed synchronicity. “Quill was forced to kill his father despite having searched for him his whole life. It took a toll on him, but it also led him to reflect on the people he cared about. Including me.” The words felt thick in Gamora’s throat, unlike the way Peter had first spoke them - with reverence, as if it was a real thing that had happened that he looked back on with fondness. “He asked if we could talk, the night we held a sort of funeral for his father, and confessed that he had a crush on me. I told him I felt the same way but had felt apprehensive about being in a romantic relationship up until that point.”

“And then?” Janet’s eyes were almost as big as Mantis’s at this point.

“And then he kissed me,” Gamora said with a sense of finality. More squealing followed. She cursed her body modifications for providing an enhanced sense of hearing. “We have been together since that night.”

“How sweet,” Jessica smiled encouragingly. “Quill does seem little bit of a...well. But I’m sure he’s a good boyfriend to you.”

“He does still flirt with many women here,” Gamora sighed. “At times, I wish he acted more loyal, the way that Cage does for Jones. Then again, it’s nice to know every Terran doesn’t behave like Star-Lord.”

Janet emitted another high-pitched noise that left Gamora questioning whether she should have been nicknamed after a bat instead of a wasp. “You call him Star-Lord, like, all the time. You must love him a lot.”

Gamora froze. “I think it’s too early for that,” she said nervously. “But it’s the nickname given to him by his mother, so I thought I would honor her by continuing to call him that.”

“And what kind of things do you two get up to?” Elektra purred almost seductively, leaning in far too close for Gamora’s comfort.

“He likes to show me movies from his childhood,” Gamora said, eliciting an “aww” from Janet, Kamala, and Jessica. “I think it brings him joy to share his culture with me, even if I don’t always understand it.”

“That’s not what I was asking,” Elektra said, wiggling her eyebrows dangerously.

“Leave her alone,” Natasha said, reaching around to shove at Elektra’s shoulder. “Not everyone wants to share those kinds of details.”

Elektra shrugged nonchalantly. “Life’s more fun on the edge, dear Widow. Are you telling me that the most dangerous woman in the galaxy _wouldn’t_ be up to no good with her boyfriend?”

“We’re taking it slow,” Gamora interrupted before unnecessary bloodshed could occur, shooting Natasha what she hoped was a grateful look. “I think I’d like to stop talking about this now.”

“Agreed. No further questions,” Patsy piped up. “Who did everyone put for Nicest Abs, because honestly…”

* * *

Peter yawned, rubbing at his sleep-weary eyes as he made his way down from the cockpit to the main deck of the Milano. He had managed to fix the nav system without Rocket’s help, but the ship still hadn’t quite recovered from yesterday’s literal crash-and-burn. If Rocket would finally stop arguing with Stark over who was the better engineer, Peter might finally be able to ask him for his help for stuff like this.

“Well, I’ll be.” Peter nearly jumped three feet in the air at the sound of Yondu’s voice. He was sitting on the kitchen counter, holding Peter’s holo-tab in one hand and an apple in the other. “You finally tell Gamora how you feel?”

“Shut up,” Peter exclaimed, darting forward to snatch the tablet back. It was open to Janet’s Instagram page, where she had posted a selfie of her and the other girls with the caption “#girlsnight is buzzing! Gamora’s giving us the latest scoop about her love life and I am atwitter! #besties #cute #squadgoals”.

“You’ve had a crush on her for how long now?” Yondu grinned, baring his rather awful teeth. “Ain’t never seen you been this excited over one girl before. And you finally got your act together.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re just pretending to be dating so we can win the prize money from Wasp’s yearbook thing. You were _there_ when we decided!” Peter exclaimed. “Gamora went to girls’ night so she could establish a story.”

“Come on, now, boy.” Yondu snorted, hopping off the counter with a crunch of his boots. Peter winced, he didn’t want to know what was in there. “You’ve been soft on her since the beginning. S’okay. You’re a Guardian now, after all. If you were a Ravager still, might be a different story.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Peter glanced down at the picture, letting his eyes linger on Gamora’s half-smile for a moment before closing out of the browser window.

Yondu shrugged, tossing his apple back and forth in his hands, nonchalant. “The code, Quill. Can’t have a Ravager moping after a woman for too long, or he ain’t have his head in the game for thievin’.”

“I’m not moping!” Peter flailed his arms around aimlessly. “I’ve got plenty of other things to deal with - the broken ship, the lack of money, school. Gamora’s important to me and all, but not like that.”

“You keep lying to yourself, boy.” Yondu’s steps echoed as his boots clanged about on the metal walkway of the ship. “Don’t come cryin’ to me if you’ve got a broken heart at the end of all this.”

Peter, for once, was speechless. He had no snarky comment to throw at Yondu’s back. Instead, he opted to settle down on the couch and open up Janet’s Instagram account again, staring at the photo posted about an hour ago. The girls appeared to be doing some sort of mud mask, with varying success. Gamora had smeared hers on like warrior paint, emphasizing the silver markings on her face. Her smile, though rather half-hearted, left Peter smiling back. She was kind of adorable when she showed her gentler side, though Peter enjoyed her deadly nature with equal admiration.

Yes, being Gamora’s fake boyfriend could hardly result in anything going south, could it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love my Guardians kids but I have a soft spot for AVAC!Janet so she’s probably one of the more prominent “background” characters.  
> Also I don’t know if this happened for anyone else, but I hear “Score, I’m not terrible-looking!” in Andy Dwyer’s voice moreso than Peter’s haha


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gamora worries about Thanos, Peter and Gamora have a _moment_ , and the Sovereign have returned to be terrible and annoying (again).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for canon-typical violence and vague descriptions of injuries near the end - attempting space battles with regular Quinjets ain’t easy, yo. I've also updated the tags a little to reflect this fic more accurately (the Avengers really aren't around as much as I'd initially implied, upped to a T rating because violence, etc.).

“Nomination forms? Nomination forms! Right over here!” Pepper was hovering over the crowd in her repulsor boots, hollering down to anyone who bothered to listen. It was Friday afternoon, and everyone was spread out across the lawn, lazily soaking in the sun and enjoying the good weather. Pepper, however, was determined to help Janet get her project to work.

Gamora’s eyes scanned the area for her friends, nervously adjusting her guitar strap on her shoulder. They had been too busy the last few days of the week for socialization, aside from a quick “hello” around campus, but now? It was showtime.

Upon spotting Yondu’s fin (it really was quite helpful in distinguishing the Guardians from the crowd), she walked over in what she hoped was a casual manner, and neatly dropped herself down next to Peter. She removed her guitar and set it down in front of her, before turning to pat him on the cheek with a gloved hand. “Hello,” Gamora said in a passably affectionate voice.

Peter grinned, reaching to gently grasp her wrist with his fingers and hold her hand there. “Hey yourself,” he said. “You have a good session with Ares?”

“It was acceptable,” she said. “I broke a dagger on his helmet.”

“That’s my girl,” Peter beamed, releasing her for a moment, only to reach over and squeeze her hand. Somewhere, Gamora could vaguely hear Kamala crying tears of joy.

“Think I’m gonna be sick,” Rocket said, looking up from his pile of junk. “Can you two do this someplace else?”

“We’re trying to win,” Peter whispered. “Let us be cute, man.”

“I am Groot.” The little one stuck his head out from under a pile of coils. “I am Groot?”

“No, don’t call them mom and dad, that’s weird.”

“I’m leaving now,” Nebula announced loudly, standing up. “Congratulations on being insufferable within 30 seconds of your arrival.”

“Bye!” Peter called after her without a hint of irony in his voice. Gamora would’ve scolded him, but his fingers tightened around hers as if to reassure her, and she decided she would let it go this time. She instead decided to move slightly closer so their shoulders were touching, and he turned back to smile at her so dopily that she smiled back.

“You are ridiculous,” Gamora informed him. She finally removed her hand from his so she could set her guitar on her lap and began plucking at it idly. “Drax, have you checked the amps at Club Galaxy like I asked?”

“Yes, and they are in terrible shape,” Drax said more cheerfully than she would have liked. “The money you and Quill will win us should get us a more than sufficient set of replacements.”

“Hey now, why is it down to me and Gamora?” Peter protested. “There’s like, a million other things we could win, too. Like, Groot is totally gonna win Cutest Recruit.” The little tree nodded enthusiastically in agreement. He was very cute.

“That is only five thousand units,” Drax pointed out. “We require ten to fix the equipment at Club Galaxy.”

“Dude, that was just an example,” Peter groaned, slinging an arm around Gamora’s shoulders. “Point is, Gamora and I have a pretty good chance of winning, but you can’t rely on us alone.”

“That reminds me,” Gamora said, letting her fingers rest for a moment. “Elektra is trying to coerce - I mean, convince - me that you and I should go on a ‘double date’ with her and Murdock.”

“Oh god.” Peter slapped a hand to his forehead, slumping slightly. She felt his body weight shift to rest against her. It wasn’t completely unpleasant. “Matt’s cool and all - I mean, blind _ninja!_ \- but Elektra scares me.”

“You’re dating the most dangerous woman in the d’ast galaxy,” Rocket reminded him, fishing Groot out of the pile of parts and setting him down on his lap. “Nothing should scare you at this point.”

“Grow a spine, Quill!” Yondu punched him in the arm. “Ain’t nothing about that Elektra should scare you when you've got Gamora here.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Gamora spotted a flash of yellow swishing about a few feet away. Thinking quickly, she continued to move closer until she was practically on Peter’s lap and turned so her nose was mere inches from his cheek. “You aren’t scared of me, are you, Star-Lord?” she said softly, her mouth ghosting over his ear, though not so softly that Janet couldn’t hear. Sure enough, an excited squeak joined in on their conversation, along with the sound of a phone camera.

“Cu-u-ute!” Janet sing-songed, lowering her phone so she could get a better look. “Don’t mind me, just checking in on the Academy’s hottest new couple. Well, when I say new - ”

“Hottest? Don’t you mean cutest?” Peter winked. Janet giggled, holding up her phone again.

“Say hello to the Academy’s Snapchat,” she said. “Exclusive - Star-Lord and Gamora are officially dating. What's their ship name?” She ended the recording and looked at them consideringly. “I should totally have a brainstorm sesh with Kamala. Catch you guys later!”

“She is pleased to see you are happy, Gamora,” Mantis said thoughtfully, closing her book. “I think that Janet was hoping you would eventually date Peter.”

Peter raised an eyebrow at this, sitting up a little straighter to look at Gamora, but she purposely ducked her head to adjust one of her guitar strings. Deciding to let it go, he turned towards Yondu and quickly changed the subject to a story about when he and Yondu decided to be young and stupid (read: something they had done about two months before joining the Academy) on some random planet they weren’t allowed to go back to. Drax laughed uproariously at the appropriate (and inappropriate) moments while Rocket groaned and attempted to cover Groot’s ears. “Oh come on, Quill, not in front of the kid, his language is bad enough…”

Gamora smiled privately to herself, and, feeling generous, gently patted Peter on the thigh, hoping it would convey her gratefulness for his choice to not dig further into Mantis’s comment.

* * *

“He-llo, viewers, and welcome back to another episode of _The Latest Buzz_!” Janet grinned widely into the camera, her smile practically reflecting light back into the lens. “Oh - no, Mr. Jameson, I swear this is super important for The Daily Bugle - no wait -”

A cut. “A-a-a-and I’m back, sorry about that everyone. Mr. Jameson gets really grumpy when I’m not trying to run stories on Spider-Man or any of the other, quote-unquote, ‘spider menaces’ running around campus. Anyways, in case you haven’t heard, we are publishing a yearbook this year so that you - the lovely public - can get to know our amazing students and see what we’re all about. It will feature photos, quotes, funny moments, and, of course, the best part of any yearbook - superlatives!”

“Now, I’m not supposed to share, but I’ll give you crazy amazing people some exclusives.” Janet tapped her mouth with her pointer finger. “But don’t tell anyone, okay? So far, the top contender for Best Hair is Thor - Odinson, that is, not Jane Foster, though her hair is pretty sweet, too - the competition for Biggest Brain is currently down to Hulk, Iron Man, and Black Panther, and, if you can believe it, the most-nominated pair for Cutest Couple is Peter Quill and Gamora!” Janet sighed dreamily. “I think they’re my new favourite ship, I’m not gonna lie. If you check out our Snapchat account - QR code up here - you can see them being totally adorable this afternoon while we were all hanging out together. They seemed like an underdog at first, because we literally just found out they were dating like, two days ago, but who knows? Maybe they’ll sweep this whole competition and _boom_!”

* * *

Gamora stared at the holo-screen in horror, nearly dropping her spoon into her bowl of stew. “Did she just tell the whole world that we’re dating?”

“She did Snapchat it,” Peter reminded her, shuffling past her on the couch to settle down on the oversized armchair.

“I thought she only sent that around to other students,” Gamora groaned. “What if Thanos sees?”

“You worried Daddy doesn’t like your new boyfriend?” Rocket teased. Gamora didn’t have time to tell him to shut up when Nebula decided to whack him in the gut with the currently-detached hand she was fixing. “O-ho, wouldn’t do that if I was you!”

“It’s not disapproval I’m worried about, it’s revenge,” Gamora exclaimed, nearly flinging her food everywhere in agitation. “It is bad enough he knows of this school, if he thinks that I have become romantically attached to someone, he will go after them first. He will torture Quill and tear him apart, slowly, painfully, and make me watch.”

“I’ve dealt with some pretty overprotective dads before, but that sounds like a worst-case scenario kind of thing,” Peter said, kicking up his feet on the coffee table. “Relax, Gamora. We’ll deal with it together, like we always do.” He began shoveling his food into his mouth with abandon. “I mean,” he continued, spraying chunks everywhere, “Thanos has been threatening to rain hell on the school for ages. It’s gonna take him like, six years to actually do anything, as far as I can tell.”

“You are too relaxed about this,” Gamora said, standing up. “It’s _your_ life on the line.” Exhaling slowly, resisting the urge to yank out one of her blades, she stalked off to her room.

An awkward silence fell over the common space. “Should I go and talk to her?” Mantis finally said, worrying the hem of her skirt between her fingers.

Peter shook his head. “No, we should just leave her be for now. I’ll go talk to her later. She’s only mad at me.” Mantis moved closer to Peter, sitting on the armrest of his chair, and draped an arm around his shoulders, patting him slowly.

“As she is on any day that ends in ‘y’,” Rocket snorted.

“I agree with the fox,” Nebula said. “My sister finds you particularly annoying.”

“Yeah, well, what else is new,” Peter said resignedly.

* * *

A couple hours after dinner, Gamora was lost in her argumentative essay on superhero ethics. She and the Guardians had not participated in the Academy’s infamous civil war of last year, but she still maintained it was a rather pointless thing to fight about.

 _Knock. Knock._ “Gamora? It's Peter. Can I come in?”

She sighed. “Yes.”

Peter walked in slowly, clearly freshly showered. His hair was damp and slightly sticking to his forehead, and there was a wet spot on his T-shirt where he hadn't dried himself off enough. She also spotted a slight nick in his neck where he had cut himself shaving. Internally shaking herself, she nodded to indicate she was ready to talk.

“I didn't mean to brush you off earlier,” Peter said. “I just think that there's no point in worrying right now. But if I was worrying, I’d be way more worried about you than me if Thanos comes knocking. I mean, let's face it, I'll be dead in two seconds flat. But he knows how to hurt you. And that's way worse.”

“How is that worse?” Gamora looked down at her book, not seeing the words printed before her. “Maybe I deserve it.”

“Oh, no, Gamora, no way.” Peter immediately moved to sit across from her, their legs brushing once again. “You can't think like that, okay? You're super amazing, and a badass hero. Thanos did some really shady stuff to you and Nebula, and you came out of it wanting to help people.”

She smiled despite herself. “You don't have to be so kind, Quill. I'm not _actually_ your girlfriend.”

“No, but you're kind of my best friend,” Peter confessed rather shyly. “Well, unless Yondu helps me get a pretty big score. Then he's my best friend for like, a few days. But usually it's you.”

“Oh.” Gamora didn't know what to say. “I don't know how to be a best friend.”

“You don't have to know how to be one, you just are one. Here.” Peter pressed a small object into her hands. “I found this in that haul Rocket got from his trip to Halfworld. It's some modified Terran weapon.”

Gamora turned it over in her hands, feeling the grooves of the small metal item. It appeared to be a simple pocket knife, until her finger grazed one of the buttons and a series of small weapons popped out from the side, including a lock pick and a laser.

“I don't know how effective it actually is,” Peter admitted, “but I have no use for it. I'm more of a guns guy. So, um, happy one-week-fake-relationship anniversary?”

“Oh,” Gamora said again. “I don't have anything for you.”

He chuckled. “It's not really for that. I just thought you might want it. Anyways, I’ve said my piece. Are you still, uh, mad at me?”

She smiled softly, running her finger along the blade. It was dull, but with a little work, it could prove useful. “I am always a little bit mad at you. But no. Not anymore.” Then she sighed, releasing a breath she didn't know she was holding in. “Pitiful, isn't it? It’s the first Friday night since we got here that I haven't been able to play a show at Club Galaxy. Instead, we’re stuck here. No missions, either.”

“We could always ‘borrow’ a Quinjet,” Peter suggested impishly. “We’ll get you those new amps, Gamora. But in the meantime, maybe talk to Vision, see if he'll take the night off from DJing and let you do a set at Club A.”

“I suppose if I borrow one of the Winter Soldier’s guitars, it could work,” she said thoughtfully. “You’ve been having a decent amount of good ideas lately.”

Peter puffed his chest out exaggeratedly. “Damn straight.” He tilted his head, considering Gamora carefully. Her hair was plaited with some of Groot’s flowers woven in, the stark white of the petals contrasting the dark reddish-purple tones of her hair. She looked quite soft, and Peter almost wanted to reach out and touch it if not for the fear of losing his arm from the elbow down. “So, you still think this fake relationship thing is a good idea?”

“It was technically Rocket’s idea, not yours,” she teased. “I am worried about the repercussions, but I suppose in the end, it's no different than taking on galaxy-wide missions. Thanos will be a threat regardless. At least this way, we will earn money with little effort.”

“That's more like it,” Peter declared, standing up. “You planning on going back to the dorms? I can walk you back.” Gamora raised an eyebrow. “Okay, more like I'll walk back with you.”

“I'm too sleepy to bother,” she admitted. “My bed here, although awful, is sometimes more comforting than the one in my dorm.” She watched as Peter walked to the door, and worried at her bottom lip. “What was that movie? The one with the rats and the poison and the sword fighting?”

“Of course that's how you remember _The Princess Bride_ ,” Peter laughed, shaking his head as he turned back around to face her. “You liked that one?”

“Yes.” Gamora nodded, setting the small weapon aside and shutting her book. “I wouldn't mind watching it again.”

He tilted his head again as he assessed her, curious about what she was up to. Was Gamora volunteering to spend time with him that had nothing to do with school or Guardians business? “I'll go grab the tape,” Peter said, fondness seeping into his voice. It made Gamora feel oddly warm. After he disappeared, she laid back onto her bed and stared up at the ceiling, where Peter had put glow-in-the-dark puffy stickers in the shapes of constellations (“I have too many,” he had said, “unless I wanna wallpaper the place with ‘em.”). They were quite inaccurately placed, as she later learned when consulting the Terran night sky in one of Odin’s lectures, but she remembered the nervous smile on Peter’s face as he stepped back to turn off the light and admire his handiwork (“Well? What do you think?”).

“You are a strange one, Peter Quill,” Gamora murmured to herself, folding her hands over her chest.

* * *

The next morning delved into complete and utter chaos. Although Gamora had been hoping for a relatively calm Saturday for finishing her homework and getting a training session in at the Combat Simulator, she was instead unceremoniously woken up by the sound of Rocket racing through the Milano, his claws clicking frantically on the metal floor plates, yelling about how the Sovereign had come back.

“Where's Adam?” Peter exclaimed as he burst out of his room, hastily yanking a shirt on. “If his damn sister is involved - ”

“Of course it's his sister, who else in the Sovereign would care enough to attack us again?!” The sounds of crashing and metal items tumbling everywhere echoed through the ship. “Dammit, we’re gonna have to haul the weapons to one of the Quinjets.”

“I’ll contact Stark.” Gamora raced up the ladder to the cockpit, ignoring Rocket’s protests, to settle down into her chair and pull up Tony’s contact. “Stark, it’s Gamora. The Sovereign are about to attack the school again. We need to find Warlock and get him over here to us, and we need to borrow a Quinjet since the Milano is down.”

“Understood, I've already sent him a message and he should be on his way,” Tony said, his voice crackling sharply over the malfunctioning comms system. “I'll get Pepper to send over the Quinjet access codes, and a couple bots to get you guys some more of those intergalactic weapons I built from last time.”

Gamora let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Stark.”

“Let's get it done,” Tony said confidently. “Hey, so what's this I’m hearing about you and Peter? I was under the impression he was a ladies’ man like me. Not to knock _you_ , of course, if I had the chance to date a girl like you I would take it, but - ”

“And you've ruined it,” Gamora said dryly, rolling her eyes. “Goodbye, Stark.”

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, the Guardians were wheels up on one of the Quinjets, with Adam not too far behind. As always, Rocket and Peter were at the controls with Gamora assisting with navigation. Mantis was attempting to comfort Groot, who was cranky from being woken up and scared at the prospect of another attack, and Drax was attempting to organize the frankly ridiculous amount of weapons that Rocket had brought and Tony had provided. The Sovereign were descending from above as they always did by the hundreds, with completely empty, remote-piloted craft, identical haughty expressions of arrogance on every screen.

“I thought she was gonna leave us alone,” Adam said over the comms. “I'll talk to her, I promise.”

“How does she even have lackeys left? I thought she pissed off all the other priestesses with her attitude,” Peter said, dodging an incoming blast. Rocket let out a manic laugh as he shot down the Sovereign craft that had been responsible for it.

“She really wants the Infinity Gauntlet,” Adam sighed, his exhale causing the speakers to emit sudden, sharp feedback. Gamora winced and moved to adjust the volume dials. “Hey, Gamora, by the way, if you have some free time after this, I heard you were having trouble with the equipment at Club Galaxy. Do you want some help? I am, after all, a cosmic rock god.”

“That’s debatable,” Peter muttered under his breath, reaching to check the Quinjet’s thruster levels. There was no guarantee they could climb as high as they usually would with the Milano, but damn if he wasn’t going to try.

“I suppose you could take a look, but they’re basically dead,” Gamora said. She paused to cling at her armrests as the ship was rattled by another near-miss of a shot. “Thank you, though. I was going to see if the Winter Soldier had an acoustic guitar I could borrow for the time being, and play a show at Club A while I wait for some money.”

Adam snorted. “No offense to Bucky, but the acoustic guitar? That’s not your thing, Gamora. You freaking melt faces when you shred on your guitar, sometimes literally. Let me take a look at your equipment. Tonight at 8?”

“Are we really having this conversation right now?” Rocket hollered. “We got some Sovereign douchebags making a go for the dorms!” He proceeded to gun down another five craft with a strong cry of victory.

“I’ll see you then,” Gamora said quickly before cutting the communication line. She looked up to see that Peter had tried his best to maneuver the Quinjet perpendicular to the ground, with little success. It simply wasn’t built for the same purpose as the Milano, as powerful as it may be. “Quill, this isn’t going to work.”

“It’s gonna work,” Peter insisted. “As long as I keep flying and Rocket keeps shootin’, we’ll - SON OF A - !”

Gamora could only watch in horror as the glass in front of Peter’s face was struck by about five energy blasts at once, piercing a hole clean through and sending a spray of shards everywhere. It was only Peter’s and Rocket’s self-preservation instincts to duck and screw their eyes shut that prevented them from being horribly injured, though she could see bits embedding themselves in Peter’s skin and Rocket’s fur.

She shot out of her seat and ran for the front, hollering back to Drax to take her position, grabbing the controls from Peter as the Quinjet tumbled hopelessly, rolling and causing Rocket to be flung out of his seat and slammed into the wall beside him, knocking him out. Drax was trying desperately to get in contact with the Director, Pepper, Maria, _anyone_ , and Mantis was frantically shushing Groot, who had started to cry.

Peter managed to scramble himself back up properly, though he appeared to be bleeding from several little cuts along his forehead and hands. Gamora had no time to ask him he if he was okay, though, pushing the controls back into his hands and running over to scoop up Rocket and set him down on one of the passenger benches, strapping him in so he wouldn’t roll around.

“We’re gonna crash-land, Gamora,” Peter called to her, and his voice was much weaker than she wanted to hear. There was a raspiness that made her eyes wander to his throat, causing her heart to leap once more - tiny bits of glass, embedded in his neck.

“Shh, don’t talk, Quill,” she said desperately as she ran back to fling herself into Rocket’s seat. “Just get us back on the ground, and we’ll let the others take it from here, okay?”

Energy blasts continued to rattle the Quinjet around, rolling til they were nearly flipped upside down, causing Drax to let out an alarmed shout from behind as he clung onto his armrests for dear life. He managed to mash the buttons to get him back to the comm line. “HELLO? IS ANYONE THERE? WE ARE ABOUT TO DIE!”

“Not on my watch,” Peter rasped, leaning forward to put some weight on his elbows, forcing strength back into his arms long enough to direct the Quinjet downwards onto one of the open fields of the Academy’s campus. “Strap...in.”

“Warlock is back on the ground,” a voice finally said, filled with static. It vaguely sounded like Maria Hill. “Agent 13 is leading a fleet of SHIELD agents up to the battle, and they’re loaded with enough atmospheric smoke bombs to drive the Sovereign away. Get yourself on land, _now_ , Guardians.”

“Wha’d’ya think we’re tryin’ to do,” Peter wheezed, glancing over to watch Gamora shooting down about six more Sovereign craft. “G’mora…’m angling us downwards now...try not to blast anything.”

“What? No, we have to - ”

She was cut off by her own anguished yell as a rather large piece of glass tore through her thigh, pinning her to the seat. An immediate agonizing heat flared up in her leg and made its way up her torso, causing her stomach to roll, threatening to empty its contents everywhere. Screwing her eyes shut, she let go of the controls and turned herself away from the dashboard as much as she could. For an agonizing two minutes, all she could hear was Peter’s laboured breathing, Groot’s frantic cries, and the constant, crushing sounds of the Quinjet being torn apart, whizzing past her ears dizzyingly, endlessly.

The last thing she remembered was choking on her own breath as smoke filled the Quinjet’s cabin before she blacked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops there goes another destroyed ship and it’s only been three chapters, Guardians wyd
> 
> Also I admittedly know very little about Adam, so 100% of his characterization is from the game, where he’s a rockstar who wants to help the Guardians defeat his sister, and that’s basically it.
> 
> Thank you for all the lovely comments and kudos so far! I'm glad you guys are enjoying this. I'm gonna refrain from responding to every comment at the moment so it doesn't look like I'm just trying to boost my own comment count haha but I appreciate y'all a lot :) Come chat with me on [tumblr](http://bevioletskies.tumblr.com/ask) about this fic, this amazing ship, or whatever you'd like - I've allowed for anons if you're shy!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Gamora begin a new game, Yondu brings a new scheme into play, and Peter has Meredith Quill feels (same, tbh).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter marks the beginning of these two _really_ getting to know each other...my babies ;_;

Gamora woke up to an insistent throbbing in her skull and leg, and the sounds of someone attempting to hold back tears. Alarmed, her eyes shot open, only to find herself staring down an unnecessarily bright light. Groaning, she turned in an attempt to bury her face into her pillow. Wait, this wasn’t her pillow.

“Medbay?” she croaked. She vaguely sounded like Peter the mornings after he’d partied too hard at Club A.

“Oh, Gamora,” Janet sobbed from somewhere on Gamora’s left. “You’re okay, yes, you’re in the medbay. That was super scary.”

“The Sovereign…”

“Gone! Agent 13 was a little genius and managed to confuse them, along with Doctor Strange’s help in manipulating their sense of time and space,” Janet said, waving her hands haphazardly. “Um, but you don’t care about that. You’ve had glass removed from your torso and your leg, but you’ll need the rest of the weekend to heal up and you should be okay. Your body mods are super good on that part, they just gotta help your stitches along.”

“The others?” She managed to open her eyes again. Janet was uncharacteristically wearing all black, and a cold sweat broke out over Gamora’s forehead. “Did...did someone die?”

“Peter’s right there,” Janet said, pointing to the bed next to her. He looked asleep, not unconscious, as his arms were shifting slightly as if he were trying to find a more comfortable position. His entire face, neck, and arms were covered in tiny little bandages. “The others are shaken, bruised, but no real injuries to put them here. Um, a couple of SHIELD agents died in the battle. We’re going to hold a funeral in the quad on Monday once we’ve flown their family in. But no students. You and Peter have the most injuries, but you should both be out by tomorrow night.”

She finally settled down into the chair next to Gamora’s bed and exhaled shakily. “Groot’s a bit traumatized, the poor little thing. The rest of the Guardians are keeping an eye on him on the Milano.” She brightened slightly. “Almost forgot, Natasha sent you this.” Janet pushed an envelope into Gamora’s hands.

Gamora opened it to reveal what appeared to be a generic Hallmark ‘get-well-soon’ card. Raising her eyebrows, she opened the card, where a bank card and driver’s license fell out. On the license was a picture of a woman who vaguely looked like Natasha on it, but the name on both cards wasn’t hers. Scrawled underneath the printed ‘hope you feel better soon!’ was some neat cursive that said “Bank account for some rich widow who owes me a favour. French accent. Only withdraw $10k at a time. Get some new equipment”.

She straightened up a little in her bed, frowning. She tried her best not to look back over at Peter, who had just let out a lazy sigh in his sleep. “I could have done better,” she said. “I have suffered far worse than a bit of glass to my leg.” She pushed the envelope back. “And I’m not taking this.”

“I didn’t think you would,” Janet said with a weak smile. “You are super strong, Gamora. I wish I was more like you.”

“No you don’t,” Gamora said firmly.

“Yes, I do,” Janet said back, a fierceness in her face that she usually reserved for supervillains and people who talked badly about her friends. “Don’t say mean things about yourself! You’re like, the coolest girl in school, you’re super pretty, and you’re the most dangerous woman in the galaxy. One bad mission is whatever, but don’t let anything or anyone get you down. Especially not _you_.”

Gamora chewed on her bottom lip, considering. “Thank you, Janet,” she said softly. “I am honored to have you as a friend.”

“You should be,” Janet said, suddenly switching back to her cheerful, bubbly self. It was a bit jarring to watch. “Oh, Peter’s waking up!”

A long groan emanated from the bed on Gamora’s right, and she turned to see him laying his forearm across his forehead, only to wince at the contact of his many little bandages rubbing against each other. She could only imagine how sensitive his skin was right now, how long it would take his body to heal itself from all the little cuts while her thigh stitched itself up in a matter of hours.

“G’mora?”

“Hi,” she said, turning onto her side so she could lay her head back down on her pillow. “Are you feeling alright?”

“I’ve got about a million holes in my skin, but I’ve had worse,” Peter said, attempting to shrug. “How about you? When I woke up, you were getting glass removed from your gut - it was super gross - like, the docs had you on some super hardcore anesthesia or something - ”

“I need no details,” Gamora interrupted. “I feel a faint pain in my head and leg, but otherwise I’m already bored of this place.”

“Guess you won’t be able to make your date with Adam after all. Sorry about that,” Peter said, twisting his mouth in sympathy.

“Date with Adam?” They both started slightly, having forgotten that Janet was in the room with them. She was eyeing them both suspiciously.

“He is teasing me,” Gamora said, turning over to look at Wasp. “Adam offered to help me with the equipment at Club Galaxy tonight, that’s all. But I suppose I will be stuck in here all weekend with...my boyfriend...instead.”

“Sounds like a date to me,” Peter said, grinning. Janet smiled back, satisfied with their answers.

“Well, in that case, I’ll leave you two alone,” she said with a wink, getting to her feet. “But I’ll go tell the nurses you’re awake, Gamora. And I’ll let the Guardians know you’re both okay now. Oh, and Fury wants to talk to you guys, so he’ll be in at around 9.”

“Visiting hours are between and 8 and 5 every other Thursday,” Peter called at Janet’s back, but she was already gone. “Damn. I’m really not looking forward to it.”

One of the nurses strolled in briskly, holding a medical chart and holo-tab. “I heard Miss Gamora was awake? Oh, and Mister Quill, Mister Udonta is waiting outside for you, should I let him in?”

“Never mind,” Peter sighed. “ _Two_ bad visitors. Can he at least wait til after you’re done checking on Gamora?” he said to the nurse. She nodded, stopping by Gamora’s bedside to pull her bedsheets back and push her hospital gown up.

Peter suddenly turned away, flushing slightly at the sight of Gamora’s skin, feeling very much like a little boy who had never seen a woman before. Granted, growing up alongside the Ravagers, he sometimes saw a little more of women than he should have at that age, but something about seeing Gamora’s bare skin made him remember how vulnerable she must be feeling.

The nurse inspected the stitches closely, checking for any residual bleeding or potential infections. When she was satisfied, she continued pushing the gown further up to expose her stomach. Gamora twitched uncomfortably, crossing her legs despite the fact she was wearing undergarments, grateful that Peter was definitely not looking.

“Whatever your body mods are doing for you, it’s working miracles,” the nurse told her, not unkindly. “You had four broken ribs when you first got here but now? Nothing. We didn’t even have to do anything.” She finished checking over her torso wound, replacing the bandages and gauze, and pulled the hem of the gown back to her knees. “Do you need painkillers?”

“I’m okay,” Gamora said, pausing. “Um, thank you.” The nurse had the decency not to look too surprised, and nodded in response, pressing a small device into her hands.

“Push the button if you need anything,” the nurse said. “I’ll go get Mister Udonta from the waiting room.” After she left, Gamora turned towards Peter, who was still facing the other wall.

“You decent?” he said.

“What?”

“I mean, are you covered?”

“I - yes,” she said slowly, confused, as Peter rolled back around, pushing his bedcovers back to reveal that _he_ wasn’t wearing his hospital gown, on account of what looked like several layers of gauze wrapped around his torso, faintly blood-stained. “Quill,” she said, alarmed. She slowly moved as if to get out of bed, but the stinging sensation in her leg told her it was a bad idea. “Janet didn’t tell me there was more to your injuries.”

“A few shallow slices here and there. I’m gonna have some pretty awesome scars after this,” Peter boasted. “I am hot as hell, though, these bedsheets are weirdly heavy - ”

“Am I interrupting somethin’?” The doors swung open as Yondu strolled in, whistling idly. Gamora’s eyes darted around suspiciously for the yaka arrow, but it seemed to be firmly tucked into his belt without a single twitch. “Why don’t you have your clothes on, boy? Hope you two ain’t getting up to some nasty business in ‘ere.”

“I’m just overheating a little, Yondu,” Peter said, rolling his eyes as he pulled himself around to properly look at the other man. “Is everyone else doing okay? I should probably do something for Groot, the poor guy.”

“Twig’s okay, he stopped cryin’,” Yondu said, settling himself down on the foot of Peter’s bed. “Your sister’s goin’ a bit wild, though. Bug-girl thinks it’s all her fault that he got so freaked out.”

“Oh no,” Peter sighed. “Alright, I’ve gotta make it up to Mantis somehow, too. I mean, everyone, really. Rocket’s probably pissed at me.”

“School seems intent on puttin’ you two up on a pedestal, y’ask me,” Yondu snorted. “I mean, y’crashed and burned about twenty minutes into the battle, but some of them girls seem to find it romantic that you’re the ones stuck in the hospital.”

“That is ridiculous,” Gamora said. “It’s not like we planned this.”

“Sounds like we couldn’t have planned it any better, actually,” Peter admitted. “We could cook up some real good story about how we saved each other’s lives. I mean, you basically got me going again after I first got hit, Gamora, we could twist this a little further, get some sympathy votes?”

“That sounds dishonorable,” she frowned. “Are we not above emotional manipulation?”

“Not when there’s money involved,” Yondu said gleefully, rubbing his hands together. “Is just a little exaggeration, Gamora, nothin’ to worry about.”

Peter sighed. “Is there anything else you need, Yondu?”

The other held up his hands as if to surrender, standing up slowly. “Just checking in. I’ll leave you lovebirds be.”

“Please don’t tell anyone - and he’s gone.” Peter groaned, leaning forward to rest his head in his hands. Gamora tried not to stare too closely at the way his broad shoulders tensed up as he did so. “Well, this weekend isn’t going the way I’d hoped.”

She reached over as best as she could, and he shuffled a little closer in confusion, allowing her to pat him on the hand. “It could be worse. You could be stuck in here with Rocket.”

Peter laughed, then immediately winced in regret, clutching at his bandaged torso. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, you’re probably the best person to be stuck in here with anyways. Drax would unknowingly insult me the whole time, Mantis would just worry like crazy, and I won’t exactly be having interesting conversations with Groot.”

Gamora smiled, nodding encouragingly. “Exactly. After all, I am your best friend. And your fake girlfriend.”

He looked down at her hand over his, contemplating for a moment before he turned his wrist so he could interlace their fingers and squeeze. “Hell yeah.”

* * *

Yondu was practically skipping up the ramp of the Milano, a spring in his step. He was satisfied to confirm his suspicions - Peter had it _bad_. Less than five minutes in the room with them, and he was staring at the girl like she put the stars in the sky. No, not even that. Like _he_ would put the stars in the sky for her if she asked.

So, new plan. Instead of having him whining and denying like he was a kid all over again, get the two to date for real. Maybe it would result in some romantic crap Yondu (and let's face it, all the other Guardians aside from Groot and maybe Mantis) would want to hurl at, but it would be a right sight better than Quill mooning after Gamora forever.

“Hello, Yondu,” Mantis said from the weapons rack next to the ramp. She was helping Rocket reorganize everything after he grumbled at her about being too injured to do any heavy lifting. “Are Peter and Gamora alright?”

“Jus’ peachy,” Yondu said cheerily. The girl smiled so widely it made his cheeks twinge in sympathy for hers. “And I got a new idea. You'll like this one.”

“Should we have a team meeting, then?” He nodded, gesturing for her to follow him to the common area.

Drax was fast asleep on the couch, one foot on the coffee table and the other outstretched across the length of the seat, his snores rumbling throughout the cabin. Groot was sitting on his shoulder, nodding off. Rocket was at the table, replacing the bandages on his arm, and as expected, Nebula was nowhere to be found.

“Team!” Yondu barked. Drax jerked out of his sleep immediately, and Rocket yanked his bandage too tightly, cursing under his breath.

“Hi to you too, big blue,” Rocket sighed. “How's Quill and Gamora?”

“Safe and sound,” Yondu replied, settling down in the armchair. “And I have an idea. About them two.”

Mantis stood by the kitchenette, looking both delighted and confused. “Oh, I did not know about this part of the idea. Do tell!”

Yondu glanced around, making sure he had everyone's attention before beginning. “Quill’s been a little out of it lately. He been starin’ at Gamora since they met, but I don't think he's even so much as winked at another woman the past few months. Migh’ not sound like much, but I known him longer than any of you. Means he's _in love._ ”

“He's probably just really getting into being a team leader now, ‘specially since we're known to the public. Doesn't want any bad blood with any of the girls on campus or his reputation’ll go down the drain,” Rocket scoffed.

“But you see that look on his face whenever she's around? Don’t make that face at _anyone_ else.” Yondu grinned as Mantis nodded along. “See, bug-girl knows what I'm talking about. And she knows feelings. I think the best way to get Quill to focus is if he actually dates her for real.”

“Seems like a waste of time to me,” Drax frowned. “Quill needs to find a woman who will dance, like him. Gamora is a warrior, an assassin.”

“Don’t mean she can't learn how to dance.” Yondu had an odd look of delight on his face he usually reserved for big scores of units or rare trinkets. “Listen, all we gotta do is push ‘em both in the right direction. Talk to ‘em about their feelings or somethin’. And maybe, once they stop focusing on this dumbass plan o’theirs and actually date? We won’ have any more mishaps like today.”

Rocket stood on his chair, arms folded. “Surprised, Yondu, woulda thought you'd want them apart, not together.”

“You saw how mis’rable the boy was back when Gamora was talking ‘bout going back to the Cosmic Conservatory? Or when Warlock first got here and he thought she was gonna run off with him? Nah, separatin’ them’s only gonna make Quill sad.”

“He was weirdly passive-aggressive when Gamora and Golden Boy were talking on the comms this morning,” Rocket admitted. “Maybe you've got a point.”

“Can I help?” Mantis said, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. “As Peter’s sister and Gamora’s friend, perhaps it would be best if I talk to them first.”

“Sure, girlie, but don't go messin’ with their heads or readin’ their minds,” Yondu nodded. “Let’s get this nonsense outta the way so we can get back to the real missions.”

“You are still not a member of the Guardians yet,” Drax reminded him. “You and Nebula have yet to prove yourselves.”

“It’ll happen, don’ you worry,” Yondu said, waving a dismissive hand.

“I am Groot.”

“Don’t give him hope,” Rocket said, moving to scoop up the little guy from Drax’s shoulder.

“Twig believes in me,” Yondu said confidently. “And that’s all I need.”

* * *

Peter and Gamora ended up sleeping for the rest of the afternoon and evening, Peter because he was bone-tired and Gamora because she honestly had no idea about what to do with her time. Her holo-tab could only keep her entertained for so long as she relayed more details of the mission in her “Academy Girls <3” group chat (created and titled by Janet, of course), her weapons were back at the Milano, and Peter’s presence currently consisted of him snorting in his sleep.

Director Fury’s visit, unsurprisingly, consisted of about five minutes of him giving them a stern dressing-down, and two minutes of him inquiring after their well-being. Oddly enough, he told Gamora that Adam had been by to see them (read: just her), but had been stopped along the way by Yondu.

“Yondu came back?” Peter groaned, rubbing at his temples.

“Any idea what that whole altercation was about?” Fury said, ignoring Peter’s dramatics. Gamora shook her head, confused. Yondu wasn’t the most friendly of people, no, but since when did he have issues with Adam? “Quill, if I’m gonna have a problem with Udonta starting trouble on campus - ”

“It was probably just a misunderstanding, Director,” Gamora said. “We can talk to him after we’re released tomorrow.”

“Good.” Fury stood even taller, satisfied. His hands moved to his hips, causing his coat to flip out behind him, grazing the linoleum floor. Peter suspected Fury’s brain required him to do that move at least three times a day. “You two rest up. I don’t want to be having another chat with you in this room, a week from now, telling you not to be stupid. The Sovereign might be after the Guardians, doesn’t mean you go after them with a ship that isn’t yours. Get the Milano fixed.”

“With all due respect, sir, we don’t really have money?” Peter coughed. “Um, not that I’m asking for it. You’re not my father, sir - ”

“And I’m glad,” Fury interrupted. “Your daddy was a real troublemaker.” He paused. “I’ll see what I can do for the ship.”

“Thank you,” Peter called as the Director swept out of the room. “What’s with everyone not saying goodbye?”

Gamora chuckled softly, turning over on her side to look at Peter. The throbbing sensation in her body had gone down significantly, but the stitches were still sensitive to movement. “I think I’m too awake now. We’ve been sleeping for at least six hours.”

“It’s been a really long day, but it’s somehow only 9:30,” Peter said, glancing at the persistently loud wall clock. “You wanna do something?”

“Like what? There’s nothing here.” She looked around the room to see if there was anything she missed. Sterile white walls, white curtains, a couple visitor’s chairs, their medical charts on the holo-screens staring mockingly back at her. Their tablets and emptied dinner trays sat on the tables next to their beds, which could only provide a distraction for a couple more hours at most. “We could quiz each other for that espionage lab we have on Wednesday.”

Peter let out a whining noise that reminded Gamora of Cosmo when his more dog-like instincts came into play. “That’s boring. We could quiz each other on something else, though. Like, 20 Questions?”

“Is that literally just asking each other twenty different questions?” It sounded mundane to her, but anything would be better than attempting to fall back asleep again. Even though it was relatively easy for her body to shut itself down on command, Peter would probably be tossing and turning all night.

“Yes, but about ourselves,” he said. “Like, our favourite colours, or what book we read recently, or something. I figured it’d also help with the whole fake relationship thing. And if it gets too personal, we can just say we don’t want to answer.”

“Okay. I’ll play.” Gamora did her best to stretch, feeling a dull ache of stiff muscles settling in. “You start.”

Peter was quiet for so long she started to wonder if he had dozed off again. “What’s your favourite part of this school?”

She gaped at him. “You made it sound like you were going to ask easy questions,” she exclaimed, debating whether to throw a pillow at him.

“I didn’t think that was a difficult one,” he protested. “I can ask something else.”

“No, it’s...it’s fine.” Gamora fell silent, contemplating. “I like the different kinds of training we have here. I suppose I’ve gotten too comfortable in my own style of combat and structure since even _you_ managed to con me when we first met.” Peter laughed at the memory. Although it might have been (physically) painful in the moment, he would’ve never guessed it would lead them to where they were now. “What about you?”

“The clubs, obviously!” he said with vigor. “Way more dancing here than at the Cosmic Conservatory, don’t you think?”

“Not sure I see it as a positive thing,” she said teasingly. “Your dancing has increased tenfold since we started going here.”

He smiled. “If you had to pick one non-Guardian classmate to join the team, who would you pick?”

“Danvers,” Gamora said almost immediately. “She is the most powerful person on this campus, as far as I can tell, and her cosmic origins would help us immensely on many missions.” Peter nodded in agreement - that would’ve been his answer as well. “Do you wish that your date with her had gone differently?”

Peter froze. He hadn’t expected that. His date with Carol had been back when he and Gamora barely knew each other, when their relationship was more antagonistic than friendly. The others knew vaguely of the details that had led to it ending poorly, but Gamora knew the least, on account of him just...not wanting her to know. “At the time? Yeah, for sure, but now, I just don't think we would've worked out no matter what I did.”

“Why not?”

“Is that your third question?” Peter countered. She shrugged, unsure if she could even think of twenty. “I dunno, there's just...other factors that make it less likely for me to want a relationship with her. Don't bother with asking what they are, you're just gonna waste a question,” he chuckled as Gamora began to open her mouth. “Alright, if you’re gonna ask me _that_ , then I’m gonna ask you this - do you think Adam has a crush on you?”

She looked so caught off guard Peter almost immediately wanted to take it back. “This is getting more personal than I anticipated,” she commented. “I don't know if he does. We just have a lot in common.”

“Maybe you could try going out with him after we've ‘broken up’. You seem to get along with him way better than you do with us.”

Gamora frowned. “Is that what you think? That arguing with someone less means I like them more? From what I remember of our mission on Ego’s planet, we determined that we considered each other family _because_ we fought so much.”

Peter looked sullen. “I only meant that it'd be easier, than say, if _we_ were _actually_ dating. Alright, new topic, this is getting dangerously close to arguing territory. What's the last thing you and Nebula talked about?”

It took her a moment to answer, still reeling from Peter’s comment. What _would_ they be like if they were actually dating? Disastrous, maybe. As friends and basically co-leaders of the Guardians, they were already rather volatile. As a couple, the delicate balance of their position as students, as members of a galaxy-saving team, as part of a family, would explode. Possibly literally. “Um, we talked about whether it would be worth to teach Mantis more combat and weaponry. Her martial arts skills are admirable but she will eventually need more.”

“So you want Mantis to be a more offense than defense member of our team.” It technically wasn’t a question. “Is that something she asked for?”

“It’s not a matter of asking, though we have her consent to be her teachers,” Gamora said. “She is a valuable member of our team, despite being very new, and it makes sense for her to use more than her empath abilities. What was the last thing you and Mantis spoke about?”

Peter smiled, and she relaxed a little. Their innocent game was starting to veer into open discussion of emotions and intentions, both things she tended to keep close to her heart. Maybe this was the right direction to bring them back to a light-hearted ‘get-to-know-you’ chat. “So I didn’t really tell anyone this, but as soon as I found out Mantis was basically my sister, I asked Janet for help on what Terran girls liked to do for fun, since I don’t know anything about Mantis’s homeworld or if I would have access or time to get things on other planets. I only vaguely remembered things Mom told me about, but I wanted her to be caught up to modern times, not just, y’know, stuck in the past like me. Janet found this boxset of crafts she got from a bookstore, and I knew it was meant to be for little kids, but it just seemed like something that my mom would’ve done as a girl and something Mantis would want to do now. So, uh, long story short, the last thing I did was teach Mantis how to make friendship charm bracelets.”

She could practically picture it now - with the other Guardians occupied with other personal things, Peter and Mantis had spent Thursday night on the Milano alone. They were probably sprawled out on the couch, enjoying the uncommon amount of elbow room, with Peter placing the box on the coffee table and excitedly telling Mantis about this cool thing that Terran girls liked to do with their friends. Gamora could also imagine Mantis asking Peter how it worked, and then spend the rest of the night weaving together.

One little statement, however, had caught her attention the most. “You think you’re stuck in the past? Just because you like holding onto things from your childhood?”

“It feels that way sometimes,” Peter admitted. “Stark got me a Spotify account and taught me how to make playlists, gave me the newest Starkphone, and yeah, it’s great that there’s been a lot of positive change - socially, culturally, politically - last one’s debatable - and I don’t want to literally live in the 80s - but I always go back to the Walkman, the Troll dolls, the stuff that my mom gave me.”

“If I still had possessions that my parents gave me as a child, I would keep them around too,” Gamora said quietly. “A picture, even. I sometimes don’t remember what they look like. I only remember being told I resembled my father more than my mother.”

He burrowed himself a little deeper into his sheets (he had asked the nurse to switch out his bedsheets for something significantly lighter) and blinked slowly at her. “What _do_ you remember about your parents?” It was barely a whisper.

“I was so young when Thanos took me,” she said, rotating so she was on her back, staring at the ceiling. “I think...I remember my mother being very funny. She was very good at making my father laugh, even though he was a man who did not necessarily like to laugh.” She turned to look over at Peter. “Not that he was an emotionless person. At least, I don’t think so. What was your favourite thing about your mother?”

Unsurprisingly, he answered near instantly, though there was a suspicious glossiness to his eyes that made her worry about her question. She thought back to his wistful nature when she had commented on the picture in his room, and wondered if this was a step too far. “Her heart. She had so much love in her heart - for me, for her big family, for people she didn’t even know yet. Like, a little girl who broke her ankle trying to climb the tree in our backyard. Mom didn’t even ask why or how she got there, just drove her to the hospital and called her parents. Or a tired old woman who yelled at the cashier for being slow, only to realize she left her wallet at home and couldn’t pay for the groceries to feed her sick husband. Mom paid, _and_ bought her a bouquet of flowers, hoping it would cheer them both up. Things like that.” He chuckled softly. “I want to be as good as my mom someday.”

“You’re already on your way, Quill,” Gamora said. “Just a bit more effort into school, maybe? And stop copying my answers, I saw your workbook for multiverse history and it was almost identical.”

He laughed at that. “Fair enough. Alright, last question. I know we’re only like halfway, but we’ll end up with a really messed-up sleep schedule if we continue. Do you like being a Guardian?”

She smiled at the ceiling, picturing the glow-in-the-dark stars of her bunk on the Milano. She could almost connect the dots between the speckles of the ceiling tile in patterns that closely resembled the constellations nearly ingrained in her mind. “Yes, I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The game is on! Who knows what else Peter and Gamora will want to know about each other ;) Also I love Yondu so much?? I’m also sort of working on a post-Vol.2 fic and not having him around in that one hurts me.
> 
> Thank you again for the kudos and comments! So glad you guys find my characterization to be accurate, that was one of my number one concerns about getting back into fic writing after so long. I especially love when y'all type in all caps and/or quote your favourite bits so keep doing that haha


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha is suspicious, the students attend a funeral, and Mantis gets the wheels in motion on Yondu's brilliant (?) plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I also mention how much I adore Mantis? Because I really do.

“Will you please sit down? Your pacing is making me irritated.”

“You’re always irritated, ain’t got nothing to do with Gamora.”

“Might have something to do with _you_ , rat-face!”

“DON’T CALL ME A RAT!”

“BE QUIET!” Gamora bellowed, finally stopping her quest to wear a hole into the carpet so she could reprimand her teammates. Nebula and Rocket were attempting to work on one of the weapons that had been damaged in the Sovereign fight, but honestly, anyone could’ve seen how poorly _that_ was going to turn out.

Unlike Peter, Gamora had been released Sunday afternoon, giving Peter another six or so hours of boredom to go through, completely alone. She had offered to stay to save him from going insane, but he had waved her off, insisting she help the other Guardians get it together.

Although she had been secretly hoping for a continuation of their game, most of the morning was spent giving formal statements and completing frankly mind-numbing paperwork for Maria and Pepper, respectively. She wished she hadn’t felt so small when Maria had stared her down with a steel glint in her eye, asking Gamora if she would be attending the fallen SHIELD agents’ funeral. Did people still think she was so cold-hearted?

Lunch had been idle chat, debating what to do about the Milano’s failing engine and broken wings (again), and then a nurse had come in, checked her over, and promptly deemed her free to go. And now, here she was, babysitting her sister and an especially irritated Rocket.

It was saved by Groot barreling into the room, fresh and bright-eyed after his nap. She sat cross-legged on the floor - her thigh was starting to ache a little from her bones putting themselves back together so quickly - and he climbed into her lap, reaching up for her like a baby who wanted to be held. “Hi, Groot,” she sighed. She could never be too irritated when he was around.

“I am Groot,” he said happily, sprawling across her forearm so his head was resting on her palm. She smiled back, removing her rings so he wouldn’t get caught on them.

“She’s not supposed to know about the plan, you idiot,” Rocket exclaimed. “Stop talking before she starts understandin’ you.”

“What plan?” Gamora’s brow furrowed.

“Just ignore him. It’s what I do,” Nebula drawled, flexing her metal fingers. “Are we done yet?”

“Why? You got somewhere to be?”

“Yes, it’s ‘anywhere but here’.”

“If Quill didn’t go and get himself injured, then maybe he’d be here instead-a you, so - ”

Gamora exhaled slowly. Mantis had taught her about deep breathing to calm the nerves, but she had a feeling that was only going to go so far today.

* * *

Natasha tapped her pencil impatiently against the leg of one of the many large wooden tables in the Timeless Archives, to the irritation of the rest of the students nearby. Even her tablemates, calm as they may be, were starting to exchange looks, wondering if something was wrong.

“Um, Natasha?” Sam said. “Everything okay?”

“I’m...just...peachy,” she sighed.

“You’re not convincing me,” Steve said, setting down his own pencil and leaning forward on his elbows. “What is it?”

“Can you keep a secret?” Natasha said, smirking. Thankfully, she finally stopped tapping away. “It’s a good one.”

“Aw, come on,” Clint complained from her left. “Now you have to tell us.”

She continued to smirk, drumming her fingers on the table. She couldn’t help the theatrics, it had been ingrained in her a while ago. “I know you boys don’t keep up with Janet’s show, but I do. Not to mention one of her girls’ nights from last week. It’s where I found out that Quill and Gamora are together. _And_ they’ve been holed up in the hospital all weekend after that spectacle with the Sovereign.”

“Didn’t think you were one for gossip about romance,” Steve commented, diplomatic as always.

“It’s not so much about that. It’s the timing. Suspicious, isn’t it?”

“I don’t follow,” Sam admitted. “You know me and Steve. We’re soldiers, not spies.”

“Jan announces a contest that involves money, and suddenly, Quill and Gamora are ‘comfortable’ with telling people about their romantic relationship, which could conveniently bring in ten thousand dollars? Gamora might be my friend, but Jan and I are much closer, and I don’t want her getting emotionally manipulated and duped because the Guardians need cash.”

“You think they’re pretending?” Clint whistled. “Wow. That’s like, couple cliche number three.”

“The weird thing is, I tried to test this theory,” Natasha continued, shooting Clint a dirty look. “I gave Gamora a clear opportunity to obtain ten thousand dollars - legally - and she rejected it. And yet they still keep up the pretense of being together.”

“Doesn’t that prove it’s for real?” Steve asked. “I mean, Natasha, this is a pretty big thing to accuse them of. The Guardians have proven to want to redeem themselves, over and over again. They’re not con artists anymore.”

“But why turn down the money? It wouldn’t be out of character to take it, regardless of whether they’re actually dating or not,” Natasha said, fingers curling into a fist. “And that they’ve been dating for months - you’re telling me that _Quill_ wouldn’t shout it from the rooftops from the beginning? Not to mention the fact he still keeps flirting with other girls, like he’s got no one to be faithful to.”

“You’re jumping to a lot of conclusions, Natasha,” Steve said firmly, his eyebrows knitting together to form his Captain America face. “It’s simple - they didn’t want to take money they didn’t earn, Peter wants to respect Gamora by keeping their relationship a secret until she was ready, and he’s probably just being friendly. You tell _me_ that I seem to be flirting with women all the time when I’m not.”

“I know it’s in your nature to be suspicious of people, but maybe just let this one go,” Sam said, his voice gentle. “If we see anything else that matches your theory, we’ll let you know, but for now, leave ‘em be.”

Natasha’s head bowed, before looking back up. “You’re right. Maybe. I just want to look out for Janet.”

“Word of advice? Don’t tell Tony.” Steve looked certain of that. “He’s going to get too overprotective, and we don’t need any more in-campus fighting.”

“Little hypocritical of you, Cap.” Three heads turned to stare at Clint accusingly. He held his hands up in surrender. “I’m just saying - the whole civil war thing was kind of, y’know what, I’m gonna shut up now.”

* * *

Classes had been canceled on Monday so students could pay their respects to the fallen SHIELD agents, causing a bit of chaos as exams, deadlines, and whatnot were shuffled around. Peter in particular had returned to his dorm room the previous night instead of the Milano to double-check his progress on his case study on Inhuman rights, as much as he had wanted to be back with his team. It was stupid, considering how much time he spent with them, but he’d missed them as he fell asleep on his much-nicer bed that night.

And thanks to his unusually comfortable mattress, he was now late for the funeral. Just perfect.

Granted, the service wasn’t about to start yet, but he knew Gamora was waiting for him outside the building so they could walk to the quad together. He nearly flew out the building in haste and almost missed her, standing right at the door, in what appeared to be a black blouse tucked into full-length leather skirt, with a capelet thrown over her shoulders. Her hair was expertly pinned up in a way that suggested it had been Mantis’s doing. “Whoa,” he said. Then he paused. “I said that out loud, didn’t I.”

“Yes you did,” Gamora said, shooting him an amused smile. She approached him slowly, laid a gloved hand on his arm, and leaned forward to gently kiss his cheek. Nearby, Peter could hear the distinctive giggles of Mary Jane, Gwen, and Felicia, likely observing them, even more likely taking pictures.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I really shouldn’t be commenting on how you look for an occasion like this. But you do look really nice.”

“Your tie is crooked,” Gamora said in return. “But thank you.”

The quad was a few minutes’ walk from the dorm, the air feeling more and more somber as they got closer, students flooding in from several directions. Peter could vaguely see Professor Pym wearing a black lab coat, chatting to Odin, who was wearing some of the nicest pitch-black furs he’d ever seen.

As they walked along the fringes of the seating area, looking for the other Guardians, Peter reached for her, lacing their fingers together. Gamora turned to look at him for a moment, confused, before a moment of realization crossed her face and she squeezed back. They eventually filed in on the end of a row of seats, where the others looked relieved that they had made it in the nick of time.

* * *

After the service and transfer of the coffins to individual quinjets, which would take the families back to their hometowns to bury their loved ones, the entire campus seemed particularly morose. It was a comfort, Gamora thought, to have Peter’s hand in hers.

Students walked about rather aimlessly, stopping to talk quietly with their heads bowed to whoever they ran into. Agent 13 seemed the most distraught - although she had been the one to lead the successful charge, she had also been trained alongside one of the dead.

“You cannot blame yourself,” Peggy was saying to her grand-niece. “You did so well, my darling.”

“You would've done better, Aunt Peggy.” Sharon looked so devastated that Gamora had to force herself to look away.

“Death isn't something I wanna think about much, but man, stuff like this really gets to me,” Peter murmured sadly.

“It is not the dead that I pity,” Gamora said. “It is the living, the ones who go on to remember them. Or forget. You and me, for example.”

Peter’s face softened. “Our parents.”

“No service held for my family, and just one person alive who knew them at all,” she nodded, pulling them aside to stop by a tree. “Are you feeling alright? You've been leaning slightly. I should check your stomach wound.”

“It's just a little sore on one side, I didn't wanna put too much weight on it,” Peter promised, taking her other hand. She looked down at their joined hands, feeling the growing heat of the morning sun radiate through them both.

“Gamora?”

Startled out of her reverie, she turned to see Adam standing there, slightly puzzled. “Oh. Hello,” she said, attempting to feign a polite smile.

“You two doing okay? Sorry I didn't get to check in on you both at the medbay, but Yondu didn't seem so intent on me going in,” he said, an awkwardness in his face that wasn't usually present. Gamora realized he was looking at their joined hands.

“I should talk to Yondu about that, sorry, man,” Peter said, reaching out to pat his shoulder. “How about you? I heard nothing after we got taken out.”

“I headed straight for the ground as soon as you guys got hit. Ships here just aren't built for a thin atmosphere,” Adam shrugged. “So, uh, Gamora, about the amps…”

“Maybe another time, Adam.”

“But - ”

He was interrupted by a loud groan, Peter clutching at his side. “Ah, uh, babe, we might have a problem.”

Alarmed, Gamora instantly ducked under his shoulder to support him, nearly tangling their arms in the process. “Medbay?”

“Dorm’s closer, I just restocked my first aid kit. Ahh, careful!”

“We should go,” Gamora said briskly, nodding at Adam as an afterthought, hauling a surprisingly heavy Peter back to the dorms.

He continued to make agonizing noises all the way back, to the point of scaring Peter Parker in the elevator. It was only after Gamora got them inside and set him down on the bed, that he suddenly fell silent.

“Quill?” she whispered, worried he had lost the ability to breathe. When she looked up from where she'd been ripping at his shirt, she could see his face, perfectly normal, as if nothing had happened.

“You didn't want to be around him,” Peter shrugged, leaning back on his elbows. “I could tell.”

“So you faked it? That is not your decision to make!” She moved as if to run her fingers through her hair, only to remember it was pinned up. He briefly wondered if she was going to strangle him instead.

“You seemed uncomfortable,” he protested. “You're weirdly polite when it comes to Adam. You would've brushed him off if he was anyone else.”

“What are you trying to say?” She straightened up, staring down at him.

“I - nothing! Just that you're generally nice to him than you are to most people!” He sighed. “It just makes me wonder if maybe, I don't know…”

“No,” Gamora said firmly. “I know what you're going to say, and no, I do not. Don't ever do that again, or I will - ”

“Kill me, I got it,” Peter said, holding up his hands in surrender. “Gamora, I know you can handle yourself, it’s just instinct, alright? Especially in social situations, you can be kind of...a loose cannon. If it was just a random guy threatening your life, I know you'd have it under control in five seconds flat, but this was different. I shouldn’t have taken that away from you, and I’ll let you deal with it next time. Promise.”

He held up his hand and stuck out his pinky finger in what looked like some bizarre salute. She frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, right. It's called a pinky swear,” he said with a chuckle. “My mom and I did this sometimes. It’s for when you agree on something, like shaking hands.” He took one of her hands, and gently maneuvered it so their fingers were looped together.

“It looks more like a lazy way to _hold_ hands,” she commented.

“It can be that, too,” Peter smiled, swinging their joined hands between them for a moment. Gamora had to bite her bottom lip to stop herself from smiling back. As irritating as he could be, Peter was always good at making her feel better. It was an annoying talent of his.

“I should go,” she sighed, pulling away rather reluctantly. “Now that I know you're actually not hurt. We have homework to catch up on.”

“You going to the Milano?” he asked. She nodded, and at that movement, she could feel her hair slightly shifting and falling out of its shape. She paused to reach up and undo the (rather excessive amount of) bobby pins, letting her hair cascade back down around her shoulders.

Gamora looked over to see Peter staring at her oddly. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said, though his eyes were oddly fixated on her hair and not her face. “I'm just thinkin’ about how I'm fake-dating the coolest girl in school.”

She ducked abruptly in an attempt to hide the heat rising in her cheeks. She really needed to get out of here before this went somewhere she wasn't prepared for.

* * *

The rest of the day was a somber affair, especially for the SHIELD-turned-Academy students who had known the fallen. Agent 13, Phil Coulson, and Daisy Johnson in particular had gone back to bed, the weight of the world pulling them back to sleep, while others coped by sneaking off to Club A early, in hopes that Ultron bot would be ready to serve them drinks.

For Peter? He had invited Mantis to his room so they could study together. She hadn’t been at the school very long, but luckily the Academy was very blasé about inviting new students every month, so the curriculum wasn’t nearly as structured as regular schools, allowing her to catch up.

They were both lying on Peter’s bed, surrounded by books, looseleaf paper, and their holo-tabs, working their way through the case study Peter had attempted (with little success) last night. He smiled when he saw Mantis’s wrist, adorned with her neon green friendship bracelet, clicking softly as she wrote. There was a few charms strung on, including a little alien head, a star, and a music note. Herself, the Guardians, and her brother.

He had grown very fond of Mantis very quickly, despite his initial worries about her empathic abilities. As much as he liked Gamora and tolerated Nebula, their personalities could prove too much at times, exhausting, even. Mantis’s gentle, innocent nature was bittersweet - a reminder of how she had grown up in isolation, but allowed her to explore things for the first time with her new family. Although they weren’t related by blood, Peter instantly felt the need to look after her and help her in understanding herself and the world around her. Mantis had admitted she had no idea how many years had passed while living on Ego, so she didn’t know how old she was, but her emotional maturity had made him think of her as his younger sister.

“You are not very good at concentrating,” Mantis informed him, breaking him out of his thoughts. “Do you want to talk instead?”

Peter shrugged nonchalantly. “I mean, if it’s between working and not working, I’m gonna choose not working. My brain’s still a little fuzzy from the funeral.”

“Would you like some help with that?” she said patiently, reaching to touch his arm. He shook his head. “Okay. Well, um, Peter?”

They both shut their books, rolling onto their sides so they could see each other better. “Yeah?”

“I am sorry I did not come to see you in the hospital,” Mantis said, looking so worried that Peter’s heart broke for her a little. “I am not a very good sister.”

“You’re a great sister, Mantis,” he said firmly. “Groot needed someone to look after him, you were the best one for the job. I was okay, Gamora was there with me.”

She perked up at this. “You and Gamora...our classmates seem to like the idea.”

“You mean the whole relationship thing?” Peter smiled. “I don’t know how it’s gonna go. I mean, we’ve got like, two and a half months left into this whole thing. Can we really pretend for that long?”

“You think it will stop being pretend?” Her eyes were huge, practically staring into his soul, daring him to answer.

“No, I mean, it’ll be hard to keep faking it. Someone’s gonna slip eventually, accidentally tell someone. Probably me,” he admitted. “I’m almost hoping we’ll have some month-long expedition somewhere so we can spend most of it away from everyone else.”

“So you are immediately going to break up after the yearbooks are out? That does not seem smart,” Mantis said, tapping him on the nose with her pencil. “You would have to at least pretend for a little while longer, or it will be suspicious.”

“We probably should’ve thought this through.” Peter groaned, flopping his head down onto a pillow. “I thought I could do my usual thing, y’know, make stuff up as I go, but that’s probably not gonna work this time.”

“You need a plan,” Mantis said sagely. “And I have one.”

His head popped up. “What? You do?” He watched in awe as she pulled up a file on her tablet, with what looked like a step-by-step list of things to do in order to keep up the charade. There were links, pictures, and did he see the word ‘contingency’? What the hell? “Uh, what the hell?” he said aloud.

She only grinned at him, and wow, he really needed to teach her how to properly smile. “The others thought it would be a good idea to come up with a plan while you two were gone. I helped!” She scrolled to the top, eager to show him. “We were thinking that this weekend, you and Gamora should go on a trip alone together.”

“The Milano is down,” Peter said, confused.

“Not on another planet, just here,” Mantis said. “You would not have to pretend for the benefit of our classmates, but it would be seen as romantic. A small getaway after a traumatizing event.”

“That is...actually kind of brilliant,” he said, giving her an encouraging smile. “I mean, Gamora and I need to do a supply run anyways. We could come up with more fake dating ideas while we’re away from everyone else, and get some work done without dealing with school drama.”

“Exactly!” she said excitedly. “You would just have to do a couple things - maybe go to a museum or something - and be seen in public. Janet will want to look at social media to see if the famous Guardians have been spotted.”

“You’re a genius, Mantis,” Peter said, slinging an arm across her back. “So what else have you got here - ”

“No peeking,” she squealed, yanking the tablet away. “The rest is not done yet. So you will do it?”

“I’ll talk to Gamora first, but she’ll probably agree,” he replied, rolling back to face the ceiling. His glow-in-the-dark constellation stickers winked at him as the evening darkness swept into the room. “I _hope_ she’ll agree.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but as you can see, I'm setting up for some interesting times ahead ;) Also I promise Adam and Natasha aren't antagonists, they're just a part of the dynamic. It's why I set this fic in the AVAC!verse, so the Guardians aren't just operating in a vacuum as they currently are in the MCU.
> 
> If anyone is wondering what Gamora's funeral outfit looks like, I imagined it like [this](https://68.media.tumblr.com/da3dd208b1afe4d2121e9df1b091fabe/tumblr_ot95ofhGRR1r8vhq9o1_540.png).
> 
> Thanks again for the kudos and comments!!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The nominee list comes out, Mantis has some romantic ideas in mind, and Peter and Gamora continue to learn about each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve never been to New York, so I hope there aren’t any glaring inaccuracies over the next couple chapters that they’re there!

Thankfully, the rest of the week had gone by quickly - no life-threatening events or earth-shattering catastrophes, just a build-up of school commitments that had left all the students physically and emotionally exhausted. Even Elektra seemed tired after her practical weaponry exam at the Blasting Range, and likewise with the usually composed T’challa, who nearly had an incident during his explosives lab with Professor Pym.

Peter barely had a moment alone with Gamora, but eventually did find the time to tell her of Mantis’s plan. She agreed to the trip, though she had other concerns on her mind - she had apparently spent Wednesday evening with Adam at Club Galaxy, where he had helped her fix her equipment, which had made Natasha suspicious.

“Adam laughed it off, told her that you and I were happily together,” Gamora had said. “It’s ridiculous - am I not allowed to spend time with other people?”

Peter had sighed in response. “She’s a spy, she’s suspicious of everybody. If anything, she might eventually sniff us out.”

On Friday afternoon, the teachers took pity on the students and let them out early, allowing Janet to make her announcement in the quad. “Hello, Avengers Academy,” she hollered, her tone and words not unlike Gamora’s opening lines when she played at Club Galaxy. “Just letting you all know that I have posted the nominees for the yearbook superlatives contest on my blog and the school website! There's also a copy here at the bulletin board and a few posted up around campus. Remember that voting starts in two weeks, you have one month to submit your vote, and then one month after that, the yearbook will be published!”

Everyone began pulling out their phones and tablets, scrolling and letting out exclamations of joy, surprise, and occasionally, disgust. Gamora stared down at “Cutest Couple - Peter Quill/Gamora”, the words still looking rather foreign to her.

“Babe, we should go pack,” Peter said, gently wrapping his hand around her elbow to get her attention. “We finally have the chance to be tourists in New York!”

“You two heading somewhere?” Janet had somehow popped up by their side despite being on the other side of the quad thirty seconds ago.

“We got permission for an off-campus weekend trip,” Gamora said, leaning into Peter slightly, suddenly unsure of what to do with her hands. “We need to stock up on supplies for the Milano anyways, and it will certainly be more relaxing than last weekend.”

“Oh, how sweet,” Janet gushed, clapping her hands together. “Send me pictures? I’d love to get some cute couples selfies for a little collage I want to put together for the yearbook.”

“We can do that,” Peter replied, sliding his arm around Gamora’s shoulder. He turned to kiss the side of her head, a light pressure that she wasn't used to. His stubble was itchy, even through her hair. Janet let out another ‘aww’ before letting them go. Turning back to Gamora, he began to list things off his fingers, though his other arm remained around her as if he’d forgotten it was there. “So we've got a shopping list, an itinerary from Mantis, hotel booking thanks to Pepper, and one of a million of Tony’s cars.”

“And apparently _you_ still need to pack,” Gamora said dryly. “I finished yesterday.”

“Aw, crap.”

* * *

It turned out, packing took a while. Saying goodbye to the Guardians took even longer. Peter put Drax in charge which made Rocket angry, Gamora lectured Nebula and Yondu about playing nice, and Groot, predictably, pouted and asked them to take him along (or at least, that's what Mantis had interpreted. Rocket snarkily told them he was tears of joy that they were finally leaving).

Eventually, they drove off, both in sweatpants for once instead of their uniforms or training duds. Gamora, in particular, had her hood up, feeling self-conscious about her skin in a way she never had before. As expected, Peter found an oldies radio five minutes after they were on the highway and got excited at a Jackson 5 song he'd never heard. After about ten minutes of attempting to sing along to songs he didn’t know the words to, he eventually gave up and allowed Gamora to switch to the traffic report.

“We should finish that game of 20 Questions tonight at the hotel,” Peter said. “I think we maybe only got through six each.”

“Why only at night? Why not now?” Gamora asked, peeling her eyes away from the skyline. She never realized how isolated the school was until they were here, in the actual city.

“People tend to be more honest at weird hours. Plus it makes it more fun,” he replied, his eyes flickering over to her for a moment. “Besides, I wanted to ask you something now, but I don’t want it to be part of the game.”

“Go ahead.” Gamora steeled herself for the inevitable - a question about Adam, most likely. Peter had been oddly calm about Natasha’s accusation and the fact Gamora had been with him in the first place. He had pried so much during that night in the medbay, almost like he was _instructing_ her to date Adam, was he really gonna let that go?

“That outfit you wore to the funeral, I don’t think I’ve ever seen those clothes before. They yours?”

Oh. That was unexpected, though pleasantly so. It was an easy question to answer.  “The top and skirt are Janet’s, the cape is mine. Why?”

“It wasn't what I thought - honestly, I assumed you were going to wear your usual, since it's all black anyways,” Peter admitted. “You looked really nice. I mean, not that you don’t usually look nice, I’ve just gotten so used to your normal clothes that - ”

“Quill,” she interrupted. “I understand. Thank you.” He nodded, looking abashedly grateful she had stopped his word vomit. “So, we get to the hotel at six, and then what are we doing for dinner?”

“I was just gonna order pizza, to be honest. I figured you wouldn’t really want to eat in public for this trip?” he guessed.

Gamora looked down at herself for a moment. Sweatpants, an oversized hoodie, gloves, sunglasses, a baseball cap. She had regular clothes for their impending “dates” in public spaces, but Peter had cautioned her against dressing the same way for when they were just walking around or going into stores.

“People get...weird about different skin colours,” Peter had told her. “In places like the art galleries and museums, we have special Academy passes, so people’ll know we’re from the Guardians, but I just think it’d be safer to cover up if we’re just out and about.”

She couldn’t really fathom what he spoke about - many planets far beyond Terra, though they had their issues, took little notice when it came to physical appearance, only putting stock into strength, knowledge, wit, and possessions. “I don’t really think being out in public in general is a great idea,” she said carefully, “but if it helps boost our reputation as helpful, reliable members of Terran society, I will do it. Having pizza in our hotel room does sound more enjoyable, though.”

Peter hummed in agreement, and they fell silent for a moment as they listened to the traffic report, helpfully informing them that were a couple car accidents that were thankfully nowhere near their route. “By the way, I feel like I should warn you - obviously, since I didn’t book the room, we have one king size bed, not two doubles like I was thinking of.”

“WHAT?!” Gamora exclaimed loudly, causing Peter to jump and almost hit the horn in the process. “Could you not have told Pepper that we aren’t at the bed-sharing stage yet?”

He looked guilty. “I was talking to Pepper about getting reservations, Stark was there, so he asked about how we were doing. I may have told them the story we came up with about how we started dating, and I _may_ have exaggerated and added on a bit about how we fell asleep in my room together that night because wow, emotional talk, and I am _really_ glad I’m driving right now and you can’t hold a knife to my throat - gah!” Gamora had prodded him in the side with a sharp fingernail instead.

“You are unbelievable,” Gamora hissed. “You couldn’t have told me this before?”

“Would you believe me if I said it slipped my mind?” Peter said, chuckling nervously. “It’s just three nights, Gamora. Besides, it’d look kinda weird to people if they found out we had separate beds.”

“We could have made a believable story about why we did if you had told me,” Gamora grumbled, reluctant to admit he was kind of right. Peter was definitely more right than she wanted him to be sometimes.

The rest of the drive was somewhat tense, though Peter managed to joke his way back into Gamora’s good graces as he usually did. They arrived on schedule, in which Peter checked in, batting eyelashes at the middle-aged receptionist while he asked about their complimentary breakfast, Gamora hovering behind him with their bags, her hood and sunglasses still firmly on her head.

“Is your girlfriend alright, Mister Quill?” the receptionist asked kindly, glancing over Peter’s shoulder. “She looks...nervous.”

“We’re from the Guardians of the Galaxy, ma’am,” Peter said confidently, and Gamora could practically see him puffing his chest out a little as part of his declaration. “She’s just a bit worried about being stared at or attacked in public.”

The receptionist nodded, satisfied with his answer, and handed him two sets of room keys and their receipt, along with a map of the city. “Enjoy your stay!”

“We will, thank you,” Peter said cheerily, pointing Gamora in the direction of the elevators.

Their room was relatively nice, as Pepper had managed to talk Fury into letting her book them one of the fanciest Best Westerns in the city (“Don’t waste our budget on extraneous nonsense, Potts!”). There was a full kitchen, a leather couch and a flatscreen TV, and yes, one king-sized bed with an excessive amount of pillows and a towel folded to resemble a zoo animal (today was an elephant).

Gamora wandered out onto the balcony, finally pushing her hood down and removing her hat and sunglasses. She let her hair out of its ponytail and allowed the breeze to rustle through her hair. Although the air wasn’t particularly pleasant, it was better than the muggy air of the highway. “We should take a picture for Janet right here,” she decided.

Peter joined her on the balcony, fussing over his hair for a moment until Gamora slapped his wrist, telling him he looked fine. “So I’m not terrible-looking?” he joked, and she rolled her eyes in response. He wasn’t going to let that go, was he?

They awkwardly rotated in one spot for a few moments to find the best angle to avoid sunlight, before Gamora held up her phone, arm outstretched as far as possible (Peter was too tall in comparison when she was going barefoot). They took a few different ones, trying to be as close as possible without literally being back-to-chest.

“We have arrived at our hotel room. Quill already wants pizza,” Gamora texted to her girls’ group chat. “I smell like car exhaust.”

Peter chuckled as he read her message over her shoulder, moving back into the room to strip off his jacket and shoes. “This’ll be fun,” he called to her. “Like a team-building exercise without the rest of our team here. You’re practically the co-leader of the Guardians with me, so maybe we’ll be better at the job afterwards.”

“We still have so much time left to keep up this ruse,” Gamora said as a series of “OMG CUTE” messages flooded in from Janet and Kamala. “I would hope we’re better teammates after this.” She turned, only to realize Peter was also changing into a more relaxed T-shirt, unlike the training undershirt he had on before. Her eyes flickered briefly over his abs (how the hell was he so well-defined, he avoided the gym at all costs) before turning away again. “Pizza?”

* * *

“So what did you have planned for ‘em, bug-girl?” Yondu was in his usual spot on the couch, dirty boots on the coffee table, chewing thoughtfully on a toothpick. It was the first night without their leaders, and despite them all putting on a brave face, it was weird without Peter’s humour and background music, and Gamora’s brisk efficiency and deadpan nature.

“I searched up ‘romantic date ideas in New York City’ and have picked some of my favourites that I think Peter and Gamora will like,” Mantis said. Groot was sitting on her forearm, attempting to scroll through her list. “After getting supplies tomorrow morning, they will go for a walk through Central Park tomorrow afternoon, a musical in the evening, and then the museum and a light show on Sunday.”

“Sounds like a bunch of cliches t’me,” Rocket said, setting aside one of his blaster guns to grab the tablet out of Mantis’s hands. “You really think Gamora’s gonna go for this kinda stuff?”

“The museum they are going to has a large exhibit on weaponry and armour that I have directed them to,” Mantis said, snatching it back so she could open up pictures on The Met’s website. “And the musical I chose is based on a movie that was recommended to Peter, and he quite enjoyed. It will be a good mix for them both.”

“Is this a movie that Quill and Gamora have watched together? What is it about?” Drax approached her, curious.

“It is about love,” Mantis said, her eyes growing even wider in excitement. “I am not sure if they have watched it together, though. But I think it will be a good first step in getting them to think of each other in a romantic way!”

“Ugh,” Nebula groaned from the corner. She couldn’t believe she was thinking this, but things might have _actually_ been better when Gamora was around. At least they wouldn’t talk about this stuff so loudly if she were near.

* * *

Peter tossed the last of his crust into the greasy box with a groan. He couldn’t possibly eat any more. He and Gamora were seated on the floor of the living space with their backs against the couch, the pizza box on the coffee table, their shoulders pressed together, both already changed into their sleep clothes. It had been a relatively short drive, but they were already physically drained from being cramped in the car, unused to traveling in a vehicle that wouldn’t allow them to walk around freely.

“I think I’m only awake enough for two questions of twenty tonight,” Gamora admitted, taking a swig of water.

“Are you awake enough for a movie? I was gonna show you _Groundhog Day_ , since we’re watching the musical tomorrow,” Peter said, holding up the flash drive Stark had loaned to him.

“Movie first, two questions, then sleep,” Gamora decided. When Peter didn’t immediately react, she turned to look at him, and that odd smile of his was back again. “What?”

“I like this better than us fighting all the time,” Peter grinned. “You actually _want_ to spend time with me.”

She turned away for a moment, shy. “Well, I have decided that you’re my best friend, too.”

“That’s awesome,” he murmured, his eyes crinkling at the corners as his grin deepened. “I’m uh, glad you feel that way.”

She nodded, smiling tentatively back. “Just start the movie, Quill, before I fall asleep on you.”

* * *

Two hours later, Gamora managed to drag herself to her feet and clean up their garbage, then collapse onto the bed where Peter was already lying face down. She poked him to double check he hadn’t suffocated in the mountain of pillows.

“Argh - oh hey.” He had shot up like a rocket and nearly hit her in the face on the way. “Two questions, then bed. But first, lights off.”

Gamora watched him carefully as he sluggishly moved around the room to turn everything off, the only light source being the city life twinkling through the window. It felt intimate at first - though her body modifications gave her quite good night vision, there was something about the surrounding darkness that made everything feel more...significant. “I want to ask a question similar to your last,” she decided. “Are you happy being the leader of the Guardians? And I don’t just mean for our team specifically, but also just...being a leader in general. Does it feel like something you’ve always wanted to do?”

He settled back down on the bed, and though there was a relatively decent amount of space between them - and they had stood much closer before - the feeling of lying down next to someone, falling asleep next to someone, and trusting nothing would happen in the night, was a foreign feeling to Gamora. It felt like an eternity ago that she was living in Sanctuary with the other children of Thanos, afraid to fall asleep at the risk of being murdered the moment her eyes fell shut. She and Nebula especially seemed prone to targeting from the others, being the most outwardly strong and beloved (if you could call it that) by Thanos.

“Not something I ever thought I would do,” Peter said, his eyes flickering up to the ceiling. “But my mom, she was always scolding me for picking fights with people who hurt the little guys. So maybe being a leader came from that? Wanting to be the first to help people? And, y’know, in the context of the Guardians, I'd say I’m team leader because the rest of you are _terrible_ with people.”

“I'm getting better,” Gamora protested. He reached over to pat her hand.

“You totally are,” he agreed. “Especially since you're like Groot’s mom or something - it's good practice.”

“We’re practically raising him together,” Gamora said. “He calls us his parents.” For some reason, Peter found himself thinking of he, Gamora, and Groot in some odd version of the _American Gothic_ painting. But instead of Peter holding the pitchfork, Gamora would be holding her Godslayer (Groot would be sitting on the handle).

“What did you want to be when you were a kid?”

She hummed softly. “I don't think I ever saw life that way, even before Thanos,” she said thoughtfully. “I didn't grow up wealthy, so I didn't think I had a lot of prospects on my homeworld. I probably assumed I would own a shop or be a teacher at most.”

“Never had dreams for anything bigger?”

“There was no bigger to begin with,” she said, her voice tinged with sadness. “Being a Guardian - it’s a whole new dream altogether.” They had somehow shifted closer between questions, their arms and hands grazing each other casually. She could see freckles forming on Peter’s nose, a result of exposure to the sun. Peter had been bragging to a few girls a couple months ago that he liked spending summers working on the Milano with his shirt off. At the time, she had rolled her eyes as the other girls giggled and said they'd like to watch. Now, she was vaguely curious if he was going to follow through. “You must've had some interesting dreams as a child, then.”

“Same question again, huh? I was a typical kid - cop, astronaut, pirate. I guess in a way I'm kind of a combination of all of them. I mean, Ravagers are straight up space pirates. And the Guardians of the Galaxy is just a super fancy name for space cops.”

“I suppose it is,” she said. Her voice was near a whisper now, as sirens and car alarms sounded outside, flooding the otherwise dull hum of the AC working its way through their room. “Your turn.”

He stared at her consideringly, contemplating his next question. Even in the darkness, his grey-green eyes were still bright with the sort of frenetic energy people had come to expect of Peter. “If you had to change one thing about me, what would it be?”

She supposed he thought it would be difficult, yet funnily enough, she found it one of the easiest to answer. “Your discipline,” she replied. “You are good at focusing on things - sometimes to the point of fixation - but you still let other things distract you from the goal. It's something to work on, I think.”

“Interesting,” Peter said softly. “I thought you were gonna say something about how annoying I am.”

Gamora huffed. “You _are_ annoying, but it doesn't mean I'd change that about you. Who else managed to confuse Ronan _and_ the Chitauri _and_ Ayesha _and_ \- ”

“Alright, I got the point.” He reached over to squeeze her hand again, and Gamora _really_ shouldn't be getting used to the feeling of Peter’s hand in hers. “Hey, I’m glad you like doing this with me. I know you aren't the most talkative person in the world, but I like that we're getting to know each other like this.”

She smiled, squeezing back. “I'm enjoying it, too. Just don't tell anyone. Or - ” She was interrupted by Peter’s gentle laugh, as he pulled his hand away to bury his face in a pillow. It was an endearing sight. “I really should stop saying that,” she admitted with a chuckle of her own. “Goodnight, Quill.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a sucker for bed-sharing. Also, it’s really hard to headcanon anything about Gamora’s childhood when literally the only thing known about Zen-Whoberi is that it’s “moderately advanced” ;_;
> 
> Kudos and comments, as always, are so awesome to see, thank you!! I'm working on a MCU-verse P/G fic since I'm almost done writing this one (this fic is turning out to be super long btw), I might start posting that one in a couple weeks on Wednesdays while this one's Mondays and Fridays. Or I might just wait this one out, not sure yet!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s a proposal, a child, and a kiss. Yes, in that order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm nearly done writing this giant of a fic (there’s a LOT more after this, trust me) but chapters seven and eight are probably my favourites, simply for being fluffy as HECK. That being said, warning for the _slightest_ allusion to dub-con that didn't actually happen.

The insistent buzzing of an AC system - the honking of horns - the vague smell of still-warm tomato sauce and cheese - the faint smell of deodorant and _medical equipment_? -

Peter shot up once again in confusion, looking around wildly before realizing the scent of medical equipment was probably because of the girl lying next to him, clutching at the bandage on a small cut on her arm from her training session with Nebula yesterday. It was already stitching itself up, but Nebula seemed to have gone at such an angle that had left Gamora’s muscles to repair themselves as well. Despite being asleep, she looked as if she were deep in thought, her brow furrowed, arms wrapped protectively around her stomach, knees slightly bent, as if she were ready to spring up at any moment. She’d moved much closer in the night, neatly tucked against his shoulder like she belonged there.

He rolled over to grab his phone off the nightstand before he could think about it for too long. 10 AM - whoa, they had slept in way past their usual call-time. It was probably a good thing, though - the week had weighed heavily on them, what with the buildup of work, and of course, the funeral rattling even the toughest of students. Still, it was probably time to wake her up.

“Gamora,” Peter whispered. “Hey, we should grab some breakfast and go on that supply run now.”

Her eyes flickered open slowly, large and dark, considering. “Ok,” she hummed, her voice hoarse with sleep. “What are we eating?”

“Free food downstairs, of course,” he said, sitting up a little straighter. She looked a little wary at the way he was hovering so closely. “It’s kind of late, so I was just gonna grab a muffin and some coffee.”

She glanced over at the clock and let out a panicked cry. “Quill! Why didn’t you wake me earlier?”

He held up his hands defensively. “Hey, I just woke up, too. This bed is nicer than the ones on the Milano _and_ in the dorms.”

“Maybe that should be one of our expenses from the prize money,” Gamora yawned, rubbing absent-mindedly at her eyes. “Mattresses for the Milano that don’t remind me of Sanctuary.” Peter winced slightly at that - Gamora had only sparingly told stories of her time with Thanos, but he remembered her talk of sleepless nights on beds of rock and debris.

They moved around the room in companionable silence, brushing their teeth, getting changed, and packing a small bag for the day (“It’s not a purse, it’s a knapsack,” Peter insisted as Gamora tucked her own few belongings into her utility belt). The breakfast room was thankfully mostly empty, aside from a sweet elderly couple who got excited upon seeing them and started babbling away about the Incident (“We weren’t even on Terra yet, why are they thanking us?” “Just smile and nod, Gamora.”).

“And your hair, it’s so beautiful,” the woman said, her eyes twinkling. “You are a vision, my dear.”

Gamora looked taken aback at being referred to in such a manner, at first thinking the woman was confusing her for the actual Vision. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you,” she said with a gentle smile. “It was lovely to meet you both.”

After they left the hotel and got into the car, Peter commented, “You  _are_ getting pretty good with people now. I mean, really, I could trust you to handle civilians in dangerous situations more than anyone else. Except maybe Mantis, if they’re like, super scared.”

“You already leave Mantis to handle civilians,” she reminded him. “Unless there are beautiful women involved.”

“Sometimes, a beautiful woman wants a good-looking guy to tell her everything’s gonna be okay,” he boasted, and Gamora groaned.

“You haven’t even started the engine yet, and I already want to get out,” she sighed. “Just start the car, Quill.”

* * *

They arrived at the SHIELD base twenty minutes later, Academy passes at the ready. The building was nondescript - fully glass exterior, an underground parking lot that led out onto the street, looking like any other office building in any number of cities. People were aware of SHIELD having headquarters on the Academy campus, but SHIELD wisely knew that civilians would be more nervous knowing that there was another building among them, storing secrets that would even make Natasha’s head spin.

They checked in at the front desk with someone that Peter decided to refer to as “Generic Good-Looking SHIELD Agent #5” in his head, a tall, slim-framed man in his 20s with a stylish undercut and a jawline that could cut glass. The man was looking at Gamora’s ID card for a little too long. Peter was about to call the guy out for his rudeness (he’d witnessed some pretty hostile behaviour towards Gamora and other non-Terran students from SHIELD agents before), until he looked up at her with an oddly...amorous light in his eyes.

“Is this your first time here, Miss Gamora? Don’t think I’ve seen you before,” he said, his voice slightly deeper than it had been fifteen seconds ago.

Gamora seemed unbothered by this. “I’m here every four months with Quill. Maybe you just weren’t working on those days.”

“I definitely would’ve remembered you,” the receptionist nodded, agreeing with some statement she had never made. He stood, making sure to smooth his hands down over his uniform as if to brush away creases that didn’t exist. The man then reached over as if to guide Gamora, his hand hovering near the small of her back. “If you’ll follow me over here through the security check - ”

Peter groaned. “Dude, you’re so not subtle.”

The man paused in his overly-salacious speech, dropping his arm. “I’m sorry, Mister Quill, I don’t follow.”

“Can we get another agent to perform the security check on my _girlfriend_ instead?”

Gamora turned to look at Peter, then back at Generic Good-Looking SHIELD Agent #5. Her hand went to the blade tucked into her vest, though she didn’t move to unsheath it. “Were you about to take advantage of me?” she said, her voice dangerously low.

“I - no, Miss Gamora, I - ” Number Five (Peter couldn’t be bothered with the full title or an acronym at this point) turned to look at Peter pleadingly. “Mister Quill, I promise that’s not - ”

“Don’t look at me, man. It’s her you should be worried about,” he said, relaxed now that Gamora had understood what was going on.

Petrified, Number Five moved to press a button on his monitor. “Can we get another agent down to reception, please?”

After passing through security (in which Peter gave Number Five a sarcastic wave goodbye), Gamora reached over to grab Peter’s hand, squeezing it. “You are still not supposed to protect me,” she said. “I doubt he meant much harm. But I’m grateful for it. Thank you.”

“He would’ve touched you without your permission,” Peter shrugged abashedly. “That’s not a cool thing to do.”

They were interrupted by another agent, gesturing for them to follow her to the armory. The three walked in silence, though Gamora held Peter’s hand the rest of the way, telling herself that it was because their fake relationship had to extend past the confines of the campus, and not because she had already gotten so used to the weight of his fingers tangled with hers.

* * *

After being given the usual droning speech about how to write up their own invoices for the inventory they took, to not touch any of the triggers on any of the weapons, and to be careful not to blow anything up, the agent left them alone, though not before pointing at the plethora of security cameras in a threatening manner.

“We’ve been here so many times,” Peter complained after she left. “She should know by now we’re only here for special batteries. I mean, seriously, they really should transport some of this stuff back to base on campus so we don’t have to come here so often.”

“At least we get a bit of a vacation out of it this time,” Gamora said, sitting on the floor in front of the shelf of energy-blast casings. “Maybe we should do this again, instead of just driving in for an afternoon like we usually do.”

“Like a team thing, or a you-and-me thing?” She turned to look at him, but he was looking down at his blasters, inspecting one of the dials intently, though she knew they were perfectly fine.

“I’m fine with either, but I think I’d prefer if we were alone,” she said softly, watching as Peter blushed and turned away to busy himself at another shelf full of weapons they  _definitely_ didn’t need. Wisely, she decided not to comment. “Three boxes of these, correct?”

Peter shook himself a little and tucked his blasters away. “Yeah. And then we need some more of that special liquid metal for Rocket’s newest BFGs - yeah, those vials over there - and Pepper told me there’s some new automatic blade sharpeners that I thought you and Drax could try...”

* * *

An hour later, they were on the road again (but not before Peter slid his arm around Gamora’s waist and winked at Number Five on the way out), this time to a Wal-Mart to get non-lethal supplies. Gamora did her best to ignore the stares of people who caught glimpses of her, and Peter did his best not to gawk at seeing her in terrible fluorescent lighting. It was hard to remember she was the deadliest woman in the galaxy when she was wearing an “I <3 NY” cap, standing next to a giant cage filled with people-sized teddy bears. To keep her distracted from one particular middle-aged woman who was giving her the hairy eyeball, Peter kept up a running commentary as they walked around, pushing their grocery cart full of random household goods.

“We should really lecture Groot about not making nests out of our pillows because these things are freaking expensive. Or maybe just talk to Pepper about keeping these in stock somewhere on campus.”

“Mantis’s sweet tooth is really gonna run us dry - I mean, the amount of Twizzlers she eats is ridiculous and her teeth are gonna fall out someday - ”

“Oh, hey, it’s the dollar bin section, we should look at the movies!”

They left with a frankly excessive amount of Twizzlers and DVDs among their other necessary items, returning to the hotel to freshen up and have lunch before heading out for the rest of the day. As they got changed, Gamora felt foreign in Janet’s clothes, this time wearing a cold-shoulder blouse and a pair of palazzos that Mantis had dug out of her closet. “It will be good for the park _and_ the theatre,” she had said eagerly. Peter also looked uncomfortable in a red dress shirt and dark slacks, which were particularly tight.

“Oh, damn,” he sighed. “These pants are like a cheap hotel.” She blinked at him. “Y’know. No ball room?”

“That was a terrible joke and you should be ashamed,” Gamora said dryly, surprising another laugh out of Peter. “Let’s go.”

Mantis had directed the two towards Shakespeare Park, citing it as a particularly romantic spot that would be good for photos. Gamora was uncertain about how romantic it would be - after all, she and Peter smelled like the worst combination of their greasy McDonald’s lunch and motor oil, and it was blisteringly hot for early summer, causing him to immediately sweat upon getting out of the car. By the time they made it to the entrance of the park, he had already thrown his leather jacket back on to hide his armpit stains.

People were looking at them, but in a way that suggested they’d seen it all before. After all, many superheroes passed through Central Park often - the Defenders, all the spider heroes, even the Young Avengers sometimes had picnics here. Still, Gamora looped her arm through Peter’s, and reminded herself that she had at least four blades hidden in her boot.

“We should do two more questions while we’re here,” Peter said, looking over at her as they neared Turtle Pond. “The show doesn’t start til 8, so we’re probably gonna pass out the minute we get back to the hotel.”

Gamora nodded, opening her mouth to start, when she was startled by the sound of a big brass band playing nearby. They both looked over to see what appeared to be a flash mob, surrounding a couple of people. The blonde woman looked confused, but the darker-haired woman was staring at her with such devotion in her eyes, Gamora was surprised she didn’t see what was going on.

“Looks like a proposal to me,” Peter murmured, grinning from ear-to-ear. “Let’s watch.”

The band was playing a song that Peter identified as Frankie Valli’s “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You”, while a few ribbon dancers on roller skates went whizzing by, encircling the pair, large cheesy smiles on their faces. It wasn’t the biggest flash mob in the world, nor was it particularly well-coordinated (they cringed in sync as one of the dancers nearly skated into the trombone player) but it seemed just right for the blonde, who was starting to understand what was going on and began to cry.

“Why is she crying?” Gamora asked, confused. “Isn’t she happy?”

“She’s crying because she’s happy,” Peter said, letting go of Gamora’s hand to drape his arm over her shoulder. “You never done that?” She shook her head, her eyes fixated on the couple as the dark-haired woman got down on one knee. Other park-goers had stopped to watch them as well, including a group of tourists who were filming the whole thing. The blonde could only nod, clutching at her quickly-reddening face as a mess of tears smeared everywhere, throwing herself onto her knees beside her now-fiancée and flinging her arms around her with abandon. Peter awwed. “That is awesome.”

The band began picking up the song again, and the dancers twirled away as the couple began kissing, the dark-haired woman scooping up the blonde woman in her arms, bridal-style, as they got to their feet. People applauded, cheering and whooping away for complete strangers, something Gamora couldn’t really fathom. Marriage on other planets didn’t seem like nearly the big deal it did here on Terra, where other people got involved so easily just by spectating on proposals and other public displays of affection.

“Excuse me, miss.” Gamora looked down to see a little girl, tugging on her pant leg. “Are you one of the superheroes from that school?”

“I - I am, yes.” Gamora cleared her throat. “My name is Gamora. I’m from the Guardians of the Galaxy.”

The little girl’s eyes widened. “You’re from space!” she said excitedly. “What is space like?”

Peter watched Gamora’s face carefully, curious. Adults, she could handle, but children? Aside from Groot, who was a rather unique case, when was she ever around children? “Space is very big, and very colourful,” Gamora said, her voice gentler than usual. “There are all sorts of weird creatures out there.”

“With lots of teeth?”

“ _Hundreds_ , or maybe _thousands_ ,” Gamora said dramatically, and the little girl giggled. “And some with no teeth at all. There are aliens with no eyes and too many eyes, or ones that look like spiders with lots of long, skinny legs.”

“I want to go to space someday,” the girl said, continuing to giggle at Gamora’s descriptions. “I want to see!”

A woman came running over, breathless. “Nadia! Nadia, there you are. I turn around for one second and you’ve gone running off.” If the mother seemed phased by coming face-to-face with Gamora, she didn’t show it. “I am so sorry, I hope my daughter hasn’t been bothering you.”

“Not at all, ma’am,” Peter said. “Nadia was telling my girlfriend that she’d like to go to space someday. And if you study hard in school, you can become an astronaut and do just that!”

Her eyes were the size of saucers. “Really? And then I can be a Guardian, like Gamora?”

“If you work hard enough, you can,” Gamora said very seriously, resting a hand on Nadia’s shoulder.

The girl fell silent for a moment, contemplating, before digging into her bookbag and pulling out a pad and a pencil. “Can I get your autograph?” she said shyly.

“Nadia, she doesn’t have time for - ”

“I don’t mind,” Gamora smiled, reaching for the items. _Dear Nadia_ , she wrote, _You will make a great Guardian someday. Be the best that you can be, and that will always be enough. Your friend, Gamora_.

“Thank you so much,” Nadia squealed, clutching to the notepad like it was her most prized possession. Her mother thanked them hastily before pulling her daughter away, citing that they were late for an appointment.

“That was...awesome,” Peter said, almost breathless, his eyes sparkling in a way that made Gamora feel somehow shyer and stronger in some odd paradoxical way. “I think I know what my questions for you are now.”

“Should we sit?” Gamora asked, her face warming. She had a feeling she knew what he was going to ask, too. After they managed to find a bench, Gamora pulled out her phone to check her notifications before they began the little game of theirs that she had grown to look forward to. “I have a message from Janet...apparently people have been posting on Twitter about us.”

“Yeah? Like what?” Peter leaned back on the bench, allowing Gamora to sit closer to him, tucked under his arm once again. It reminded him of how they’d woken up this morning. She turned her phone screen so they could both see, scrolling through the array of tweets that Jan had taken screenshots of.

“I think I just saw two members of the guardians of the galaxy in central park lol?? #weird”

"little girl just went up to the guardians and asked for their autograph...super cute!!”

“peter quill and gamora are on a date in shakespeare park would it be awkward if i send my snapchat videos to tmz”

“We’re _totally_ the cutest couple in school,” Peter said, dramatically dragging out his vowels in his best impersonation of a valley girl accent. “It’s good. People are talking about us.” He stretched, enjoying the breeze that was passing through, before sitting back up. “So. First question today - have you ever been in a relationship before? It’s just, you were having some interesting reactions to that proposal. I guess it’s not something that you’ve seen happen a lot.”

“The extent of my social life is what you’ve seen at the Cosmic Conservatory and here,” Gamora said. “So no, I’ve never been in a relationship. I never really wanted one, until...well.” She trailed off for a moment, looking rather secretive. “Thanos used me to seduce targets - his employees referred to me as his most attractive child.” Peter winced at that. _What a gross thing to say about a kid_ , he thought. “I never did anything much beyond kissing the targets, though. I never had to, though if it had to come to that, I suspect Thanos would ask it of me.”

“That sounds awful,” Peter sympathized, squeezing her hand. “I mean, a lot of things that Thanos did to you guys was really shitty, but forcing underage people into sexual manipulation? It really messes with people’s lives. And breaks like, tons of intergalactic laws.”

“It's unpleasant to think about,” she agreed. “And not something I want to reflect upon too closely. So, Quill, what would be your ideal girlfriend?”

Peter blinked. He had expected her to turn the question back around on him as she had done before, but maybe Gamora thought he _had_ been in relationships. Maybe she thought Carol was a fluke, a bad experience, among a string of girlfriends. He wasn't sure whether to be pleased or disappointed in her assumptions.

“Super hot,” he began, and she was already rolling her eyes in displeasure. “Funny. Thinks _I’m_ funny. Likes the same kind of music and movies. A good dancer, someone who doesn't take themselves too seriously, you know?”

“You sound like you're attempting to describe yourself and failing, aside from the last bit,” she teased, absorbing the new information. Of course he wanted a girlfriend who liked dancing.

“Hey,” he chuckled. “And, uh, the thing with the kid. That was...really cool. Do you like kids, want to have kids?”

“Groot is an ideal child. He says three words and requires little assistance,” Gamora said, eliciting another laugh from Peter. “I don’t necessarily like children more than adults, though they tend to be more honest. And I don't think I'd ever considered children a possibility, even now. I don't find parenthood sustainable in our line of work, though I know some people can prove me wrong.”

“Smart,” Peter nodded. “I love kids, but they'd definitely be difficult to handle when we have to jet off across the galaxy all the time. I’d have to find the right person to share that experience with.”

Gamora twisted at her rings again - it was a relatively innocent habit that would never leave her muscle memory - and thought over her last question of the day. “Who is your favourite person at school? Student, faculty, whichever.”

“Thought it was obvious,” Peter said. “Who else gets the honour of being my best friend?”

“Follow-up question then,” she countered, trying not to smile too hard, “why am I your best friend?”

“It’s not really a specific thing that makes you my best friend, although the fact we have to spend a lot of time together covers a lot of it,” he said thoughtfully. “I mean, you’re really asking why I like you. You’re cool, and smart, and as it turns out, really interesting to talk to. That’s not what I would’ve thought when we first met, you were the strong silent type back at the Conservatory. But you’ve opened up a lot in the past year, and you’ve been there for me the way that I hope I’m there for you, and I just...you’re my best friend, I dunno. That’s a really terrible way to end what was supposed to be a heartfelt speech, wasn’t it?” he laughed, shaking his head.

“Hardly your worst,” Gamora allowed. “Janet is requesting another selfie, and I have an idea. Just trust me.”

Peter pursed his lips and shrugged, allowing her to lead him to a particular area of the park, stopping them in the middle of a pathway, Her arm wound across his back, their heads close together, she held up her phone and adjusted the angle for a few moments before she seemed satisfied. “You're taking a while, what’s going on - mmf!”

Gamora had kissed him.

He heard the click of her camera, along with that of many other people who were nearby, whispering to each other about it being “that couple from the freaking Guardians of the Galaxy!”, but all he could feel was her mouth against his. Her lips were rougher than that of the other girls he'd kissed - she wasn't wearing makeup, so they lacked the tacky texture of lipgloss or smoothness of lipstick - and she tended to bite her lips in concentration, especially during battle. It lasted for but a moment, as she took a few quick shots before pulling away. She smiled up at him, pleased, and handed him the phone.

It was well composed, something Gamora had clearly picked up from Janet. Their arms wrapped around each other in a possessive manner, smiling into the kiss, and behind them, a beautiful view of the gardens with a glimpse of the skyline, and in the upper left-hand corner, a specific plaque:

“What's in a name?

That which we call a rose

By any other name would smell as sweet.

Romeo and Juliet, ii, 2.”

“I like it,” Peter said, his voice hoarse as if he'd been talking for hours. “Even Instagram-worthy.”

She grinned wider and took his hand again. “I'm glad you think so.”

* * *

The pair returned to their hotel room at what felt like the witching hour, exhaustion settling deep into their bones. Peter was much more drained than Gamora, nearly falling asleep standing up as he brushed his teeth, but she felt oddly melancholy after the show. Musicals were not her thing, though she would never tell Peter that she didn’t actually mind _Footloose_ , but the thought of being trapped in time for years with no one who could help you felt rather claustrophobic.

She changed into her sleep clothes with little regard for Peter standing nearby - she had long stopped pretending there was any pretense of privacy when it came to being a Guardian - and flung herself down on the bed, arms spread. “You’re gonna have to give me more room than that,” Peter teased, though he was so tired that it felt like his tongue was interfering with his ability to enunciate, causing his words to slur together.

Gamora rolled a little bit, blinking up at him with an uncharacteristic sense of innocence, and he felt his heart beat a little faster at the sight of her like this. She was in an oversized T-shirt and gym shorts, her dark red hair spilling out of its hastily-done topknot. He could still see remnants of injuries spelling out her history across her body, including the slightest of scarring on her thigh where the glass had sliced through her just a week ago. There was a softness to her face, her jaw more relaxed than usual, her eyes not as fierce as they always were. Peter hoped it was a sign of comfort around him, and not just because she was tired.

“Is that one of your favourite films you’ve seen since coming back to Terra?” she asked sleepily. He climbed in next to her before he did something stupid, like lean in closer. “I think I’ve heard you talk more about this one than any of the others that people have recommended to you.”

“It’s a classic,” Peter said, allowing his head to drop onto the pillow, though he angled himself so he could watch Gamora’s face as her eyes drifted shut. “It’s got humour, it’s got romance, and dancing...what’s not to like?”

"Is dancing _that_ common on this planet? I swear I’ve never seen people so obsessed,” she said, involuntarily letting out a snort. “Or maybe it’s just you and all the films you’ve shown me.”

Peter hummed. “ _You don’t know the one, who dreams of you at ni-i-ight_ ,” he sang softly, chuckling more to himself than to Gamora. “Dancing is awesome, okay? It’s something that anyone can do, whether they’re good or bad at it, it brings people together, and you can do it with someone you love or someone you never met before. I mean, how many activities can you say do the same thing?”

“Every context I’ve seen has been for courtship,” Gamora replied. “So it’s something that couples do?”

“Sure.” He shrugged, though since he was lying down, all it really did was shift the bedsheets around, causing Gamora to huff and smack his arm with a pillow. “I’d imagine like, me and my girlfriend - my actual girlfriend, who exists out there _somewhere_ \- would totally love dancing. She could quote all the movies that we watch together. Hell, she could recite them forwards and backwards from memory. Wouldn’t that be super cool?”

Gamora fell silent for a moment, choosing not to respond. Then she glanced over at the clock. “Hey, Quill,” she murmured, her voice so low that he had to shuffle himself closer, their noses nearly touching. “It’s midnight. Today is tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “my actual girlfriend” Peter pls she’s right next to you ok
> 
> Some random links:
> 
> • [Peter and Gamora’s outfits](https://68.media.tumblr.com/1166138a353a85862da315d95cc8f651/tumblr_otm76qX4Zx1r8vhq9o1_540.png)  
> • [the version of the song playing during the proposal](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y6baRWhZ9sE&feature=youtu.be&t=28s)  
> • [ the plaque in their kissing photo](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/71/ce/77/71ce77a4f99ac99924a5eabb7125d20d--central-park-blog-entry.jpg)  
> • [the movie scene Gamora quoted to Peter](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Fdb16Om40E&feature=youtu.be&t=1m31s) (i see you, girl)
> 
> Endless thanks for the comments and kudos! I promise y'all, next chapter's a real good one ;)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Gamora argue and make up (aka the usual), Gamora has a bit of an epiphany, and someone goes missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ending of this one makes me happysad every time I read it over, tbh.

Janet van Dyne, as the hundreds of students, SHIELD agents, and faculty had learned (sometimes the hard way), was not a girl to be messed with. She wasn’t the strongest, the fastest, or the most skilled of students on campus, but God help you should you get in her way, or even worse, mess with any of her friends.

It had started off as a perfectly normal Sunday morning, of course. She woke up feeling peppy as always, and made her way into the dorm cafeteria/lounge, where Clint and Kate were hovering over the coffee machine, looking desperate, but otherwise dead to the world. She pulled out her green juice from the communal fridge, cracked open the lid with a satisfying pop, and then took a swig, right as she opened Twitter. She then promptly spat it out at the first trending topic she saw, nearly spraying Cosmo and Lucky in the process, who were just innocently sitting on the floor at the Hawkeyes’ feet.

“KAMALA!” she hollered, causing the Hawkeyes to jump. “WE HAVE A SOCIAL MEDIA EMERGENCY!”

Ms. Marvel came dashing in, sliding across the linoleum on her socks, precariously tipping over in the process and nearly braining herself on the doorframe. “What is it, Jan?”

“Why am I seeing this weird, tell-all Twitlonger from some SHIELD agent being DMed to me by hundreds of people?” She stuck her phone in Kamala’s face. “Who is this guy, and why is he saying mean things about Peter?”

“Let me see, girls,” Peggy Carter said, strolling briskly into the kitchen with the no-nonsense attitude that every girl in the Academy revered. She took the phone from Janet and scrolled through the article, frowning. “I can’t say he stands out to me, I wouldn’t remember his face even if I’d met him. He’s rather generically good-looking, wouldn’t you say?”

“He said something about Peter punching him in the face for looking at Gamora,” Janet said. “That doesn’t sound like something he’d do.”

“What’s this about Quill and Gamora?” Natasha sauntered over from the fruit salad station, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. After Peggy showed her the post, her mouth twisted unpleasantly, considering. She wouldn’t put it past Quill and the other Guardians to attempt a long-con to make money, even if it meant a little bad publicity to get into the news. She reasoned that Gamora was the one with a strong moral compass, someone who understood the need to save lives the most after taking so many, and she wouldn’t have taken Natasha’s money regardless. Still, it didn’t clear the suspicions she’d had from the beginning. Maybe this wasn’t the most important secret she had to sniff out on the entirety of the Academy campus (the timefog was definitely a more pressing matter), but it was something Natasha knew she had to look into further.

* * *

Waking up next to Gamora a second time was decidedly less pleasant than the first, as Peter had been unceremoniously kicked in the gut. With a rather comical shout, he went tumbling out the bed and landed elbow-first on the floor.

Her head popped up over the side of the bed a moment later. “You okay, Quill?” she said, concerned.

“Never better,” Peter groaned, stumbling to his feet. “What happened?”

Her eyes flickered away from him a moment, guilty. “Nightmare,” she murmured. “It won’t happen again.”

He decided not to push it - it was definitely not a topic to be discussed in their game or any context, really, unless she was ready - instead electing to mumble about needing to pee and walking to the bathroom to give her space. When he got back, she was already dressed, her hair braided, face composed once again. She was on her phone, presumably checking her messages and making sure the Guardians hadn’t killed anyone - or each other - in their absence.

“Mantis says there are lots of photos and videos of us online,” Gamora said, turning to face the wall as Peter began stripping down. “They’re referring to us as the ‘hottest new superhero couple’.”

“Alright, I like it,” Peter said as he buttoned up his shirt. “We could definitely be the most attractive superhero couple ever.”

“Always so modest,” she commented dryly, turning back around as he finished adjusting his belt buckle. As she moved to get up, her phone went off with a text notification. “Wait, Janet says there’s a weird Twitter post about us.”

He sat down to do up his shoelaces, distracted by the need to finish dressing. “Yeah, yeah, read it.”

“It says, ‘Star-Lord is a possessive psychopath. He and his girlfriend came to my workplace for some Guardians business, and when I checked them in, I apparently took too long looking over her ID and he lost it. He grabbed me, pulled me out from behind my desk, and punched me in the face repeatedly. It took two security guards to pull him off me, and he kept yelling at me about trying to steal his girlfriend.’” Gamora blinked. “What the hell,” she said flatly.

“It’s that damn Number Five,” Peter said, fists clenched. “My nickname for him,” he added at Gamora’s confused expression. “He’s probably mad he got called out for being a creep, even though I was super non-confrontational about it.”

“And now he’s making people think you’re an over-possessive, violent boyfriend, how is that okay?” she exclaimed. “An untrue slight against you, you’re just going to let that _go_?”

“If it becomes a problem, we’ll deal with it,” he shrugged, and there was that nonchalant quality of Peter’s that frustrated Gamora so often. It wasn’t just in situations like this, it was on missions, on jobs, where he told everyone he would “figure it out when we get there”, or “wait until we know more”.

“Your talent for improvisation will only take you so far,” she informed him, getting to her feet. “We might need to make a counter statement when we get back. I’ll text Pepper.”

“You do that,” Peter sighed, frustrated. This day was already starting out on a sour note compared to the near-perfect time they had yesterday. He hoped it could only go up from here.

* * *

Breakfast downstairs was an...interesting affair. The elderly couple from yesterday was there once again, having a petty argument about using the wrong kind of knife for jam, when they spotted Gamora and gestured for her and Peter to join them. They shared stories of their favourite dates and anniversaries, which made the two smile, until they asked how long Peter and Gamora had been together.

“We’ve known each other for a couple years, but we’ve only been dating about four months, almost five,” Peter said, glancing over at a slightly defensive-looking Gamora. The couple motioned for him to elaborate. “I don’t know if civilians heard about the fight us Guardians had back at that time, but my father turned out to be pretty evil and we had to take him out. It was in that moment that I realized I had a giant crush on Gamora, and I didn’t want to lose out on telling her before some other crazy bad guy took us down.”

It still made her uneasy to hear or tell this story, no matter how many times it was spoken aloud. A lie rooted a little too deeply into truth, and Gamora could almost forget that it didn’t _actually_ happen.

After Peter continued to make up stories during the duration of breakfast, the pair headed out to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, a place that Mantis had listed and Pepper had recommended. “There’s lots of amazing stuff in there, but I think Gamora would especially love the Arms and Armor section,” she had said, handing them a stack of brochures.

The car ride was uneasy, to say the least. Gamora wasn’t sure why she was so annoyed this time, in all honesty. It wasn’t like this was the most stubborn either of them had been, nor the most dire issue they’d ever gotten into an argument over. And yet, it bothered her that Peter wasn’t planning on doing anything about this. _For a guy who cares so much about being called Star-Lord, he doesn’t seem worried about being seen as a violent boyfriend_ , she thought, glancing over at him. He was humming mindlessly along with the radio, some pop song that played on rotation every two hours. She was uncertain about why he hadn’t switched to an oldies station, but the atmosphere felt too tense for her to ask.

The moment they got out of the car, it was like a switch had flipped. Peter took her hand and guided them to the museum entrance, where they were taken to the front of the queue and let in almost immediately the moment they showed their Academy passes. “Perks of being a hero,” Peter said to her in a sotto voice, slightly concerned that the civilians would overhear and complain. “Where should we start?”

Once they got going, it seemed as if things were back to normal. Gamora found that she was enjoying herself, not just in the Arms and Armor exhibit (though it was definitely her favourite), but in observing the art and furniture of the other exhibits that taught her a great deal of Terran history that she’d been unaware of until now. Peter also seemed to have relaxed a little bit, offering colourful commentary, joking around with her, his hand warm in hers. They seemed so used to it now that she felt as if they would continue to accidentally hold hands after the ruse was up. Or maybe it was just her, unused to the sort of intimacy Peter probably received in spades.

Brave individuals approached them and asked for a photo or for a moment to simply thank them, while the shyer members of the public stared at them from afar, attempting to be discreet in taking videos or photos, only to quickly turn away when eye contact was made. Even one woman blurted out that she thought they looked good together, before turning red in the face and dashing away, clutching at her companion and muttering about how embarrassing she was.

They took a break for lunch when both Peter and his stomach began to complain, tucking themselves away into the American Wing Café for a quick bite. “You alright?” Peter said cautiously, moments after they’d settled in.

“Are you asking after something specific?” Gamora said, tilting her head as she observed Peter practically inhaling his sandwich. “Because if you think I’m still irritated, you’d be correct.”

“I’m just surprised it bothers you so much,” Peter said, frowning. The effect was ruined by bits of lettuce falling out of his mouth. “I get you being worried about Thanos coming to kill me, like, _me_ specifically, but this is just one post making up stories that barely anyone’s listening to. What’s the big deal?”

“You put stock into your reputation but this doesn’t worry you at all. Why?” she countered, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other. “I understand fighting for people to call you Star-Lord, since it holds both notoriety and sentiment, but what about fighting _against_ being seen as a possessive, unreasonable lover?”

“The public have already gotten over it five minutes after it was posted, and I’m pretty sure any girls I’d be interested in from this point on would be smart enough to know it isn’t true,” Peter shrugged, licking his fingers. “Like, _you_ know I’m not that guy. And hell, _you_ were more physically threatening to him than me, we both know it, so who cares?”

Gamora exhaled slowly. “I guess it bothers _me_ ,” she admitted. “Not because you aren’t doing anything about it - I’ve come to expect little effort from you on things like this - but because...I don’t like the idea of people seeing you in a negative light.”

Peter smiled softly, reaching across the table to put his hand over hers. She saw a camera phone flash out of the corner of her eye, but instead of turning towards the culprit, her eyes fixated on Peter’s face instead, the signature warmth in his eyes a comforting sight. “That’s awesome of you - no, really - but that kind of stuff doesn’t really get to me. I care more about what _you_ guys think of me than some random people from the public. And I know what kind of guy I am. So that’s all that matters.”

Smiling back, she felt the tension in her muscles dissipate. Contrary to popular belief, she did _not_ enjoy fighting with Peter. “We should get going,” she said. “I want to look at the swords again.”

* * *

“I am Groot.”

“I know you’re bored, hold on a second - ”

“I AM GROOT!”

“Hey, now, don’t talk to me like that, watch your d’ast language, kid.” Rocket climbed out from underneath the table, where he had accidentally dropped his wrench. He was working on some weaponry that wasn’t all too critical, but since Peter and Gamora were taking their sweet time bringing supplies back in favour of a “romantic” weekend trip, he didn’t have what he needed to continue doing repairs on the Milano. It also meant he was looking after Groot even more than usual, as the other two would usually take him while Rocket was working. “Now, whaddaya want?”

“I am Groot.” His little wooden fingers pointed in the direction of the sleeping quarters.

“I don’t think she’s even on the ship, Groot. Haven’t seen her since dinner last night.” Rocket rummaged through the mess of wires he’d uncovered from one of the cooling units. It was a miracle the thing hadn’t blown to bits with the way they were tangled up.

“I am Groot.”

“Why would I be worried? Nebula’s probably just skulking in a corner somewhere and hissing at anyone who gets too close.”

“I am Groot!”

“What? How did you even get into my communicator, it’s password-protected.” Rocket leapt over to the coffee table, where his holo-tab was sitting, unlocked. He scrolled through his messages for a moment before looking back over at Groot. “Shit, you’re right. We gotta tell the others.”

“Wha’s going on, rat?” Yondu emerged from his room, looking around blearily. He got a suspiciously high amount of naps in for a guy who was supposedly failing a decent amount of his classes and needed to catch up. Then again, the naps were probably what kept him away from homework in the first place.

“Nebula’s somehow off-planet, she’s been spotted on some cluster near the Kyln,” Rocket said, shoving all of his work onto the floor in favour of his tablet, now projecting a map of Nebula’s rumoured location onto its surface. “We should tell Gamora, we aren’t equipped to handle this without her.”

“Shit,” Yondu yawned, scratching himself. “We really gonna interrupt her and Quill’s date night? They should be on their way to that light thing that bug-girl picked for ‘em.”

“There’s more pressing matters than Quill and Gamora getting all kissy-faced, alright? D’you have any idea how much trouble we’re gonna be in if Patch Man finds out we somehow _lost_ Nebula? How did she even find a spaceship - Milano’s busted, quinjets ain’t built for space travel - ” Rocket started mumbling absent-mindedly to himself as his claws flew over the keyboard, attempting to plot a course for Nebula’s location.

Groot went running down the hall of the Milano, extending his arms to knock on Drax’s and Mantis’s doors. “I am Groot, I am Groot!”

Drax came out first, daggers in hand, ready for a fight. “What is it, small Groot?”

Mantis poked her head out from behind her door. She had earbuds in, listening to a playlist Peter had made for her, and spoke even louder than usual. “What has happened?!”

“We gotta cut in on Quill and Gamora’s love trip - Nebula’s missing,” Rocket called from the kitchen, where he was inexplicably rummaging for cutlery. “Can someone contact them already? Don’t have all day, it’s already getting dark out!”

“Rocket, while I understand the need to recover Nebula, what are we supposed to do about it? There are no functioning spaceships on this base,” Drax said patiently, lowering his daggers slowly in mild disappointment.

“We’ll **_figure it out_** ,” Rocket snarled. “Now get to it!”

* * *

“Is it bad I kinda just want to spend the rest of the day in here?” Peter asked, flopping down on the bed. He rolled around to cocoon himself in the thick duvet. “I don’t know what it is, but I’ve been kinda tired this whole trip. Not in a bad way, just like a ‘I’m-letting-myself-get-tired’ kinda way.”

“We don’t get much rest at the Academy, so being off-campus probably helps your body relax,” Gamora suggested. “We don’t have to go, then. We can just...stay in. Order more pizza, watch the lights from here.”

“You secretly like pizza, don’t you,” he teased, turning over to look at her.

“Didn’t think it was much of a secret,” she replied, smiling as she set down her bag and her phone. “I adhere to a strict diet to maintain my physicality, but I enjoy indulging every once in awhile.”

“Pizza it is,” he cheered, reaching for his phone. To his surprise, less than a minute later, Gamora crawled in next to him, having apparently already changed into her pajamas in record time. She’d taken out her braids, leaving her hair slightly crinkled and messy, looking more unkempt than he’d ever seen her, but just as pretty as ever. It was good to see her so at ease.

“And maybe a movie?” she suggested, almost shyly.

He nodded more vigorously than he meant to. Gamora’s large chocolate brown eyes were kind of mesmerizing up close. “Yeah, yeah, of course.”

* * *

Despite still being grounded, the Milano had delved into chaos, what with Rocket leaping about as quickly as he could to gather parts, Mantis and Drax attempting to flesh out Rocket’s flight path plan, Groot bouncing up and down on the kitchen counter in anticipation, and...well, Yondu was sitting on the couch, observing.

He was in charge of contacting Peter, though he wasn’t sure if he wanted to do it just yet. Not because of him being away with Gamora, though that did play a minor role, but because...was it really so crucial to get Nebula back? She left for a reason, a reason that everyone suspected but couldn’t confirm - Thanos. Going after Nebula likely meant confronting Thanos, and Yondu wasn’t in the mood for dying, not today.

Watching the others scramble around like their feet were on fire, you could never tell that Nebula constantly antagonized all of them, only being marginally nice to Gamora when it suited her. Gamora had insisted her sister wasn’t a lost cause, not yet, but it was telling when Nebula bolted the moment Gamora was gone as well. And they weren’t saying it out loud, but the way they were eyeing him? Yondu could tell the others were surprised he was still here when Peter wasn’t, either.

“We really that scared of Fury findin’ out?” Yondu called, tucking the holo-tab away, as if he’d done what he’d been instructed to do. “Maybe he’ll like it better now that she’s gone.”

“It’s not just Fury I’m worried about, you idiot. You wanna face Gamora when she gets back and finds out we _didn’t_ tell her that _her sister somehow disappeared off-planet to fight their evil daddy_?!” A clang. “Ow.”

“I am Groot?”

“Yeah, I’m okay, thanks. So are you helpin’ or are you hinderin’? ‘Cause if you’re not helping, we could use some extra space.” Rocket’s arms were folded, his chin tipped upwards. Yondu supposed it would be more intimidating if Rocket wasn’t a mere three feet tall.

“Pretty sure Quill put Drax in charge, not you,” Yondu drawled, moving closer to stare him down.

“It would be wise of you to assist us, Yondu, unless you would like to have your toes removed.” Drax’s voice, usually jovial at best and monotonous at worst, was dangerously low, his blue eyes like ice.

“Yessir,” Yondu said sarcastically, though he moved over to the table to help. He wasn’t _that_ much of an idiot.

* * *

“Just once, I’d like to watch a movie with no singing or dancing in it whatsoever,” Gamora sighed as the movie ended, her head moving to rest next to Peter’s shoulder. “I think you’re skewing my perception of Terran culture.”

“ _Twist and Shout_ is so good,” Peter said enthusiastically, turning to look at her. They were nearly nose-to-nose (well, Peter’s-nose-to-Gamora’s-forehead. She was uncharacteristically slouched over, her entire upper body pressed up against his). “I could totally be Ferris Bueller, right?”

“As long as you’re not expecting me to be Sloane,” Gamora said, patting his leg.

“I think you’re more like Jeanie,” he countered, leaning closer. “Did you see the way she took out the principal?”

She laughed softly, her hand coming to a stop on his knee. “Alright then, that helped me think of my next question. The Guardians, we think of each other like family. We fight, we argue, but we do it for each other. Do you see Nebula and I as your sisters?”

“No offense to Nebula, but she’s not exactly on the ‘ride-or-die’ level for me yet,” Peter chuckled, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. They were nearly cuddling at this point, body heat radiating off both of them at every spot they were touching. It made him vaguely wonder if there had been something in the pizza that had made Gamora unusually pliant, but even stranger, it wasn’t as odd to him as he thought. She was so comfortable around him now that it made him secretly feel pleased. He couldn’t imagine Gamora being able to snuggle up to anyone since she was a young, innocent girl, and now her arm was slung across his lap like it was nothing, his breath rustling her hair.

“And me?” There was a half-smile on her face, almost flirtatious. It reminded him of when they had stopped over on Knowhere, where Rocket, Drax, and Groot had gotten drunk, and he and Gamora had a moment that he held on to with a surprising fierceness.

“I, uh...I don’t think, that, uh, I think of you as my sister. First of all, it would make this whole fake relationship situation really weird,” he elaborated at her slightly baffled expression. “And you have some...qualities, that I like in girls.” He cursed inwardly at himself the moment the words left his mouth. What was he, some inexperienced ten-year old trying to flirt with his schoolyard crush? This was _Gamora_ , someone that he’d been opening up to in the past few weeks in ways he’d never anticipated.

Thankfully, she didn’t prod further. “But I don’t dance, or quote movies you like,  _or_ find you funny,” Gamora said, teasing.

“Oh, you definitely dance.” Peter got to his feet, weaving their fingers together and pulling her up as well. “I think you’ve danced with me enough times to establish that you’re totally a dancer.”

He moved to press play on his Walkman, smiling as the gentle sounds of a chorus and strings flooded the room. Despite having the latest technology available to him soon after they’d landed on Terra, Peter had asked for songs he had discovered later on and truly loved to be put on tape. He liked the idea of continuing his mother’s Awesome Mixes, as if it was his way of responding to hers.

They slowly moved around the room, Gamora sighing as she always did but following his lead. She was slightly on her toes, as her feet were bare, taking away the height advantage her thick-heeled combat boots usually afforded her. Her face was closer than it usually was, and despite the fact they’d kissed just yesterday (was it really yesterday? It felt like decades ago), there was an intimacy present that she was unused to, the feeling of Peter’s breath against her nose that wasn’t too unpleasant.

He then ducked his head slightly, his mouth now practically in her hair, nestled comfortably against her ear. “ _You give your hand to me, and then you say hello_ ,” he sang, his voice so soft that she nearly missed it. As they turned slowly around the generously-sized living room, she could see the lights from the show flickering in and out of view, bathing them in a warm glow. “ _And I can hardly speak, my heart is beating so_ …”

Peter opted to hum for the next few lines, but Gamora felt her face begin to warm. Their perceptions of music were so different. Gamora enjoyed her punk-rock, with lyrics about fighting against the establishment and navigating the hardships of life and death, but there was something so endearing and innocent about Peter’s connection to older songs. He was a modern man in many ways - his somewhat arrogant personality in contrast to his gentle, all-loving nature - but his heart beat in time to older music and movies that celebrated love and life.

She dared herself to look up at him, and there was that softness that she liked so much, a stark contrast from the steely-eyed confrontation they had earlier today and many times before. Their eyes locked as Peter picked up again. “ _...and longs to kiss your lips, and longs to hold you tight...to you, I’m just a friend...that’s all I’ve ever been…_ ” He broke off to chuckle. “It’s weird, ‘cause this song is pretty slow, but they dance so quickly in the movie. I always thought it was perfect for just kind of...two-stepping...like this.”

Gamora let out a soft breath, unsure of what to say. A breeze whistled by from the open balcony door, disturbing her hair, but all she could see was how it made one of Peter’s curls flop over his forehead. She reached up to push it out of the way. “Do you have a question for me?” She wasn’t sure why she was whispering, or why her thumb lingered on his cheek longer than she’d meant to.

“Sure,” Peter smiled. “You know what I look for in a significant other. What do _you_ look for in a guy?”

“Physically fit,” she said immediately. That was an easy one, she needed someone to keep up with her in training, combat, and...other things. “Disciplined, intelligent, level-headed.”

He chuckled softly. “You describing a life partner or a business partner?” His large hand pressed slightly closer on the small of her back, though the pads of his fingers were still gentle. “ _Afraid and shy, I let my chance go by, a chance that you might love me too…_ ”

“Then I guess you could say I look for a person who could be by my side in all aspects of my life,” Gamora countered, though her voice remained quiet and even. “Someone to be on equal footing with.”

“Like someone who leads a team with you?” Peter asked, and her eyes widened in realization. Maybe…

“Maybe, exactly, like that,” Gamora breathed, her chin tipping upwards.

It was an unconscious choice by them both, an instinct, really, as they moved together. Gamora’s hands were now cupped in Peter’s, held delicately between their chests. Their bare feet, taking tiny, careful steps, now coming to a stop. Peter’s nose met the side of hers first, and it was so slow compared to the rushed kiss of yesterday, like they had all the time in the world…

“ ** _GAMORA!_ ** Gamora, are you there?!”

She jumped backwards, nearly stumbling over her own feet. Peter watched her, astonished. He’d never seen Gamora trip before, not without some sort of catalyst. Without giving him a second glance, she turned and walked into the bedroom, snatching up her tablet. “I’m here, Rocket, what’s wrong?” she said, her voice hoarse.

“Yondu was s’pposed to contact Quill but he decided to be a big blue idiot and do nothin’ - your sister, she’s gone! Off-planet, gone to hang out near the Kyln!”

“What?” Peter exclaimed, hurrying over immediately to stand near Gamora. “How’d she get off Earth? Does SHIELD - or Stark - have some space travel technology we don’t know about?”

“Can’t be too naive, Quill, their secrets got secrets. You guys gotta get back here immediately, ‘cause Fury doesn’t know yet and this ain’t something I wanna tell him!”

“We’ll leave right now,” Gamora promised, her voice level, though her mind was racing. “Don’t do anything rash until we’re back.”

She disappeared into the bathroom to start packing and get changed into her combat gear, leaving Peter to stand there, dumbly staring after her, the spell broken.

_Oh, you’ll never know the one who loved you so._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I know, I did the cliché thing, though this whole fic is an excuse for me to deconstruct tropes and clichés so shh
> 
> The song they’re slow-dancing to can be found [here](https://open.spotify.com/track/4HFA4iRZ1OHJ6R6aeyDUCp), in reference to [this scene](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mQxrD2xNP_g) from _Groundhog Day_.
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated! Getting email notifications from AO3 that just start with "YAAAAS" gets me every time.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of the Guardians take off in search of Nebula, Peter lives in the deep canyon of denial, and Gamora reflects on how her life has changed since becoming a Guardian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire fic is just me going “Peter pls” tbh

The drive back to campus was...tense, to say the least. Not because they were fighting again, but because Peter could tell Gamora had trapped herself in her own mind, running over dozens upon dozens of ideas of what Nebula was planning on doing, and what _they_ had to do in response.

The radio was playing the traffic report, occasionally telling them of an accident far off from their route home, and the light show had long ended, now that it was approximately 2:30 in the morning. It was just the droning sound of a graveyard-shift radio host and the occasional honk of an obnoxious cab driver that kept them company.

Although Peter knew his mind needed to be focused on the mission at hand (or at the very least, his driving), he couldn’t help but find himself mentally wandering back to two hours ago, when he and Gamora had nearly kissed. It was different than their first near-kiss on Knowhere, the one that had resulted in a knife to his jugular. The look on Gamora’s face, as if she’d experienced some epiphany that needed a conclusion right at that very moment - and they had been so _close_! Now, she couldn’t be further away despite being seated next to him, looking off into the distance, her brows furrowed in concentration, lips pursed, probably calculating ten different scenarios in her head at once, and not at all thinking about what had transpired before.

“Gamora?” he said, voice soft. She nodded for him to continue, never turning or making a sound. “I don’t know what your exact plan is yet - if you have one - but I think it would be best if some of us stay on Terra. It’ll be especially bad if Earth gets another intergalactic threat and we’re all away.”

“I’ll take Mantis and Drax,” she replied, her voice distant. “It’ll help us subdue Nebula in two different ways, if it comes to that. I don’t want her getting violent around Rocket or Groot, and Yondu’s arrow will be of little use in threatening her, considering what happened last time.”

“Makes sense.” They fell silent again, as if they had nothing more to say to each other, despite having so much left to talk about. It was going to be a long trip back.

* * *

The SHIELD agent at the gate had been confused upon seeing them, as they weren’t expected back until noon. However, Gamora had called ahead, asking Rocket to get Groot to fake an illness in case security called the Milano to check on their story. After that, he waved them through with a disinterested yawn.

They boarded the ship ten minutes later and were greeted by the other Guardians, who were whispering frantically to one another about what to do. After hearing Gamora’s plan for splitting up, they came to a consensus (after some minor protesting from Rocket) and moved to pack their things.

Peter volunteered to help Mantis with her stuff, knowing she often deliberated too long on what to take. The moment her bedroom door was closed, he felt odd. It was the first time he’d been fully out of Gamora’s presence in three days. “How was the trip, Peter?” she asked softly as they began rummaging through her weapons storage unit. “I saw the photos on social media. You looked very happy.”

“It was fun,” he said with a shrug, and it had been, if not confusing in the end. “I think Gamora and I, we have a better understanding of each other now.”

“That is good. You both make very good team leaders.” Mantis smiled brightly as she pulled out a set of knives, one that had been gifted to her by Gamora not long after she’d been recruited.

Peter wisely chose not to say anything about the “moment” they had. Maybe he had built it up more than it really was, and Gamora had already left it behind in their hotel, never to be addressed again. It didn’t need to be awkward, right? It just didn’t.

He decided to steer the conversation elsewhere before Mantis got a little too close for comfort, asking her whether Yondu had behaved (he hadn’t), whether Groot had been a good kid (he had), and if the weekend had been relatively calm, aside from the whole Nebula-going-off-planet thing (it hadn’t. Apparently Peter Parker had attracted some unwanted attention. Honestly, how was _he_ not the problematic Peter at this school?). They were interrupted not ten minutes later by a loud clanging noise at the loading deck. The team scrambled outside, guns and blades ready, only to immediately cower and drop everything.

Director Fury stood there, feet shoulder-width apart in his signature power stance, hands clasped behind his back, trenchcoat flapping in the wind as always. Peter briefly had the crazy idea to ask the Director if he had any special tricks for looking extra dramatic in a longcoat, because his sometimes got trapped around his ankles when he danced. “Going somewhere?”

"Just cleaning up, Director,” Peter said cheerily, stepping forward. “You scared us.”

“Groot doesn’t look sick,” Fury said, gesturing at the little one, who was sitting on Gamora’s shoulder and chewing on what looked like a nail file in his tiny hand. “So why _are_ you two back so soon? Your little love trip go sour?”

“My sister has gone missing, sir,” Gamora confessed, her defensive stance slacking as the fight left her body. “She was spotted near the Kyln, where she had murdered several prisoners in an attempt to find us, back when she was still with Ronan. I suspect she’s searching for Thanos, and we need to retrieve her but have no way of doing so.”

Fury sighed the sigh of a man who spent a lot more time wrangling teenagers than he’d like to. “I’ve got you a ship. It’s not the Milano, but it’ll do. Who’s going? You need permission forms to get out of your classes, and I’ll sign ’em.”

Peter stared. “Is that a _thing_ here? I have never heard that before in my life.”

“Just tell me who’s going, Quill, before I change my mind,” Fury barked.

“Myself, Mantis, and Drax,” Gamora said quickly, shooting Peter an annoyed look. “Thank you, Director, I appreciate it.”

Fury waved a hand. “Alright, you three, let’s get going. Say your goodbyes, it could take awhile before you come back.”

Groot, predictably, became very distressed, clinging onto Gamora’s hair and letting out a high pitched whine, not unlike a puppy whose owner was leaving for work. Realizing that Fury was watching, Gamora set Groot down on Rocket’s shoulder and reached to wrap her arms around Peter’s waist, a hesitant stiffness in her arms that she hoped the Director wouldn’t notice.

“We’ll call to check in every day,” she promised, her hand moving to cup his jaw. “I’ll see you soon, _Star-Lord_.”

Even Rocket couldn’t be bothered to make a gagging noise, as he was staring at the others with an oddly forlorn expression. Peter pulled Gamora in closer, wondering if he could possibly convey every confusing thing he had been thinking and feeling about her in their embrace. She kissed him, a much more prolonged kiss than the one in Central Park, but still devoid of the emotional weight of mere hours ago. Somehow, it made Peter feel worse about the whole situation.

“Don’t miss me too much,” Peter said jokingly, finally letting her go. His view of her walking away to stand near Fury was obscured by Mantis practically jumping into his arms. “Whoa, hey. You be careful, Mantis, okay? You’re a badass, but you’ve never been out that far. Let the others take point on this one.”

Drax wrapped an arm around Peter’s shoulder, murmuring something in his language that he had told them previously was his people’s blessing of protection. Peter wanted to learn it so he could say it back, but there were too many consonants and not enough tongue dexterity.

After the three passed around the other Guardians, saying their goodbyes, Fury finally managed to direct them off the Milano, disappearing into the darkness.

“That was quite a show you put on jus’ now,” Yondu commented as they somberly settled in at the communal table. “Almost looked legitimate.”

“Is that really what we’re talking about right now?” Peter kicked his feet up, staring at his uneven shoelaces so he’d have something to fixate on before his brain took him further into a downward spiral. “You’ve got weird priorities, Yondu.”

“You weren’t here for all the panic earlier, Quill,” Rocket said. His voice sounded oddly affected. “Might need something less heavy to talk about while they’re gone.”

“I am Groot,” Groot said sadly, hopping onto Peter’s lap and snuggling into his belly, tiny fingers digging into Peter’s waist. “I am Groot.”

“Stop calling her mom,” Rocket said, though it was half-hearted. “Of course Quill misses her, the whole d’ast galaxy can probably see his crush from miles away.”

“I just came here to finally get some rest and I feel so _attacked_ ,” Peter said, standing up (but not before carefully setting Groot back onto the table). “I’m going to bed. Come find me when you wanna talk about something other than me and Gamora, okay?”

* * *

The whole campus woke up to a rather sober image of the Guardians. The team, though often split up _during_ missions, were never fully separated the way they were now, and it was evident. Peter, Yondu, Rocket, and Groot, all varying types of chipper, loud personalities, seemed disconnected in class. The professors took pity on them and left them alone for the most part, but the students seemed especially sympathetic towards Peter, who, in their eyes, was currently without his sister _and_ his girlfriend.

“If you need some company, you’re welcome to join us, Peter,” Steve said in that ever-so-gentle voice of his, a stark contrast to his authoritative Captain America voice. “All of you.”

“Might take you up on that offer,” Peter said with a weak smile. “Thanks.”

Sitting with the Avengers at lunch seemed pretty surreal. The other Guardians had declined in favour of going back to mope on the Milano, so Peter was left alone with Steve’s usual crew of Barnes, Wilson, and Romanoff. At the next table over, he could see Tony with Rhodey, Pepper, Janet, and Parker, who was being watched by a table of his usual admirers. _For a supposed “nerd”, Parker has some game_ , Peter thought.

“I guess you guys haven’t really been this far apart before,” Sam said when Peter first sat down.

“Sam - ”

“No, Steve, don’t try to sugarcoat it. Peter might wanna talk it out,” Sam said, waving a carrot stick at Cap. “I mean, let’s be real. We Avengers? We have fights every damn day. The Defenders are constantly at odds, but you Guardians have this real family bond going on, and I think that’s cool. But I bet it makes it harder to be away from each other.”

“I’m worried about my sister,” Peter said, twisting his juice bottle around in his hand aimlessly. “She’s so...gentle, y’know? And I hate to think what she’ll witness out there if Nebula’s on a revenge rampage.”

“She’s a good kid,” Sam nodded. “But she’s got good company right now, yeah?”

“Gamora’s been taking Mantis under her wing,” Natasha said. “I think they’ll be okay, Quill. Don’t worry.”

He smiled. “Thanks, guys. I know we’ve kinda been keeping our teams mostly separate, but it means a lot to know that we’ve got each other’s backs.” Biting at his lip, he considered whether to play up the angle a little more. “At least I got a really nice weekend in with Gamora before we had to get separated.”

“Jan showed me some of the photos. You guys look real swell together,” Steve said, shooting an encouraging smile back. “Me and Peggy have some competition.”

“Nah,” Peter said, waving a hand. “You guys got that whole epic war love story thing that spans decades.”

“Decades in which I was on ice, and Peggy technically _died_ while I was gone,” Steve reminded him. “We got back together when she came back, but we’ve probably only been dating for about ten months.”

“How long have you and Gamora been together again?” Natasha said, blinking at him innocently, though Peter could tell she was thinking about something. What, he wasn’t sure.

“Five months by the time she gets back,” he sighed. “At least, I can hope they won’t be gone any longer than that. I wanna do something special for our six-month, even though I know she’s not super into anniversaries.”

“Did you do anything for the other anniversaries?” Natasha was leaning a bit closer now, and the others looked slightly uncomfortable.

“I got her this modified multi-tool. Don’t think she actually uses it, but I know she keeps it on her as like, a keepsake,” Peter said, crossing his fingers this wasn’t something Natasha had tested on Gamora before. He should probably update her on the fake stories they had to spread. “Like I said, anniversaries aren’t really that important to her.”

“What’s it like, dating someone like Gamora?” Peter almost jumped at the sound of Barnes’s monotonous voice, which always sounded partially confrontational, and partially sad. No one could blame him for either, not after what he’d been through. It was then that Peter also remembered Barnes had a _giant_ crush on Natasha, and knew what he was really asking.

“It’s honestly really great,” he said. He moved to unwrap his sandwich and rearrange his lunch tray, in an attempt to distract himself from the truth and the lies of his own words. “I mean, Gamora’s my best friend too, which I think is super important in relationships, y’know? And, uh, she’s this, powerful badass who can also be a really warm, fun person. It’s like, she slays a bunch of monsters with her Godslayer, and then she cuddles me when we’re watching movies together. It’s super awesome.” He looked up to see all of them watching him even more carefully than before. “I think everyone expects her to be as authoritative and type-A in relationships as she is in battle, but it’s not like that. She’s affectionate, and sweet, and…” Peter trailed off with a shrug. “She’s basically the most important person in my life.”

“Wow,” Steve chuckled. “I’m really happy for you, Peter. You two deserve a win.”

“Thanks,” Peter said. There was a warmth in his cheeks that hadn’t been there before - where had all those words come from? “So, how about you and Carter? Haven’t really spent much time around her but I’ve heard the old stories, and I’m pretty sure every girl on campus I know worships her, so she must be pretty awesome.”

Sam and Bucky groaned in sync. “Oh, don’t get him started,” Sam laughed, playfully flicking a grape at Steve’s head. Peter chuckled at the sight, grateful to be able to relax for the first time since she’d - _they’d_ \- left.

* * *

Three agonizingly long days passed before the three of them had gotten remotely close to the Kyln. It was weird, being on a ship that wasn’t theirs, with most of their team back on Terra. Gamora was mostly in charge of piloting the ship, as Drax and Mantis had little experience in comparison, and it was honestly quite lonely. She had grown so used to bickering, to the sounds of Rocket’s tools and Peter’s music and Groot’s little voice, that the casual, low-key chatter that Drax and Mantis engaged in felt all wrong.

She knew Drax and Mantis were close, having bonded quickly on Ego’s planet, and made it clear they had no romantic feelings towards each other, but their platonic love for each other was strong. Drax was something of a second brother to Mantis, insistent on protecting her and sparing her from the uglier parts of their battles. Gamora wondered if Mantis secretly disliked that both he and Peter kept her away from the real fight, if she wanted to make those decisions for herself. It was why she and Nebula had opted to train Mantis more, in hopes she would be strong enough to properly be alongside them.

If one had asked Gamora two years ago what her idea of family was like, she would have given a condescending laugh and a shake of her head. Her family was long gone, dead, killed without mercy at the hands of a man who referred to himself as her father. Now, she had what she would have seen as trivial problems - how to keep Groot from falling into the garbage disposal, how to stop Rocket from blowing everything up. What the best way to train Mantis was, how to teach Drax to be more tactful in how he treated other people. How to convince Yondu to properly engage in school, how to make Peter more responsible. All for her newfound family.

As for her actual family, her sister, she was a different story altogether. They approached the cluster of small rock settlements outside the Kyln, and she felt a sense of dread, then a sense of guilt. How could she feel so reluctant to save Nebula? She had to remind herself constantly that Nebula was not yet a lost cause, that she was worth going after. Gamora couldn’t abandon her when she clearly had issues she still needed to work through, issues that needed the strong support system they had built for themselves with the Guardians.

“We should send out a message, and see if any of them know where she is,” Mantis suggested.

“I doubt they will answer honestly. Perhaps we should just land and intimidate them into answering us,” Drax said. He looked like he was itching for a fight.

“Message first, intimidate later,” Gamora allowed. “Mantis? You want to do it?”

Five hours later, and Gamora was honestly bored. They had transmitted a message down to the Nova station after deliberating over their word choice for an hour (Drax didn't think they expressed the urgency of Nebula’s destructive potential enough, Gamora thought it was unnecessary to threaten to decapitate them if they didn’t answer), and there had been no response so far. Instead, they hovered around the cluster like they had nothing better to do.

The three of them decided it would be a good time to catch up on schoolwork, despite it being hard to concentrate. It was getting increasingly difficult to think at all, when they were floating in the middle of nowhere, on a ship that was too sleek and shiny to feel like home, with no idea of what was to come. Gamora considered when would be too early to tentatively message Peter and ask him to follow with the rest of their team. They had given the Nova station until midnight to respond, but what if they landed and found that Nebula had already left? It was highly likely, what with her ability to sneak in and out of locations with ease. The trail could have already gone cold before they’d left Terra.

 _Ding_.

“It’s mine,” Gamora said when Drax and Mantis looked up. “I’ll take it into my room.”

She retreated to her bunk with her holo-tab, settling in on the bed that was _too_ comfortable, lacking in Peter’s glow-in-the-dark stickers or the suspicious engine oil smell of the Milano to keep her company. Gamora had long muted the girls’ chat group since it was an endless string of chatter, though she did occasionally pop in to check on them. Her other most used conversation thread as of late was Peter.

 **Peter:** hey just a warning the avengers asked me some stuff about you today

 **Peter:** i said the terran multi-tool i gave you was an anniversary gift

 **Peter:** i also said you like to cuddle

 **Peter:** i’d say sorry but both are kind of true

She couldn’t help but snort in laughter, reading the messages in Peter’s voice in her head. Things had been a little tense between them since their dance in the hotel room, but if anyone was going to lighten up the mood, it was him.

 **Gamora:** i’ll accept the first and deny the second

 **Gamora:** mantis has already run out of twizzlers. we’ve only been gone for three days

She glanced around for a moment, wondering if she should grab her homework and bring it back to her bunk. Then again, her brain was still weighing heavily on everything that was going on with Nebula - even her stomach was a little queasy - so she probably wouldn’t be as productive as she’d like. Surprisingly, Peter responded about thirty seconds later.

 **Peter:** WHAT

 **Peter:** i packed her like two whole bags plus a package of nibs??

 **Peter:** i did that as a JOKE

 **Peter:** i’m taking her to a dentist when you guys get back

Gamora felt like she was going crazy, laughing to herself so hard that she was curled up on her side, clutching at her stomach. She imagined that if Drax and Mantis could hear, they’d probably think something was wrong.

 **Peter:** so any luck?

 **Gamora:** we sent a message to the nova station four hours ago and nothing. we’ll land at midnight if we still get no response

 **Peter:** aw that sucks. i’d tell you to be careful but it’s kind of an unspoken thing at this point :p

 **Peter:** btw if you’re looking for something to do, i put a few movies on mantis’s holo. stuff you’ve already seen though

 **Gamora:** that’ll be helpful, we’re already quite bored. have you been watching anything new?

 **Peter:** had a couple in mind but i thought i’d save it for when you get back

 **Peter:** i like that we’ve got some traditions going on :)

Her laughter had come to a stop as she rested her head on her pillow, staring at the last two messages with a sort of awe. He’d said it before about their game of 20 Questions, how it was something that brought them closer, but there was something touching about how Peter would nonchalantly mention he was saving something so he could specifically share it with _her_. Before, it had been movies he’d seen as a child, movies he’d already watched on the recommendation of other Terran students who were excited to tell Peter about new things in their culture. But now it was a simple pleasure he denied himself because he wanted her to be a part of it, too.

It was times like this where Gamora wished she remembered things about her people, her home, to share as well. Drax still had such fond memories of his family, despite having lost them in such a brutal manner. Rocket and Yondu had rather traumatizing origins, so neither had a home to speak of. But she and Mantis were taken when they were young, so unsure of what they came from and who they could have been. And now, everyone was starting to pick up mannerisms and habits from Peter, not just because they were on his home planet, but because he soaked up every moment of his culture and wanted the others to experience it with him.

 **Gamora:** i enjoy it too.

* * *

As the days passed, the Guardians that remained at the Academy were given less and less leeway. It wasn’t that people didn’t feel sorry for them, it was that there was only so much sympathy to give. The others had straightened up a little, gotten back into their typical ways, but Peter continued feeling oddly morose. They’d been gone for a week and a half now, having found only dead bodies at the Nova post and stopped over at the Kyln to find more dead bodies and traumatized witnesses, and were now wondering, reluctantly, if they should come back.

The messages, though light-hearted at first, became more emotionally distant as time went on. Even Mantis, who usually had something chipper to say whenever she checked in with Peter, didn’t sound very optimistic in her last correspondence. Drax was down to very short sentences or even one to two-word answers, and Gamora…

She sounded _tired_. Exhausted of all her options, of where Nebula was and if she was, dare they say it, alive. Peter wanted to be there for her, but he knew that splitting them up was the smartest thing to do. If both leaders of the team were off-planet, things would get chaotic, _fast_.

He rolled over onto his back, staring at the ceiling. He’d taken to holing himself up in his dorm room more than usual, while the others practically lived on the Milano, with Rocket distracting himself with repairs, and Groot keeping him company as always. He knew Yondu especially would tease him about missing Gamora, but it was true. As much as he wanted to lie and say he missed Mantis most, he just didn’t. Gamora was a steady hand, a welcome presence in every aspect of his life, and now she was struggling out there, and he couldn’t do anything to help.

There was also the fact that Yondu had put that stupid idea in Peter’s head - a _crush_ on Gamora? Sure, he had been attracted to her when they first met, wouldn’t say no if she _actually_ wanted to date him, but...Peter sighed. He had nothing. There was nothing he could do or say for plausible deniability. He had a crush the size of the _entire galaxy_ on his best friend.

He reached over to grab his tablet, scrolling back through their conversation history. The jokes, the gentle ribbing, the sometimes-serious discussion about what to do next. And then, at the very bottom, sat almost mockingly:

 **Peter [unsent]:** i can’t wait til you’re back. i miss you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is definitely more character-driven than plot-driven, but I wanted to give a peek inside their heads every now and then so y’all can understand where they’re coming from!
> 
> Peter, my sweet summer child, please do yourself a favour and send that message.
> 
> Thank you thank you thank you for all the comments and kudos! You guys are lovely :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter needs a distraction, Gamora has a lot of feelings, and Mantis is trying her best, you guys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a slight deviation from _Vol. 2_ , as if Peter had talked about their unspoken thing here in the way he had in the movie, they would _definitely_ not be questioning the nature of their relationship or how they feel about each other. No spoilers otherwise!

The campus was buzzing the day that voting ballots were released. Director Fury did his best to rein everyone in, remind them that they had classes to attend, but everyone was too excited about discussing their choices with each other to really pay attention. “You kids do remember you don’t _actually_ have a summer vacation, right?”

Peter found it odd, watching campus life happen around him. He still felt like he had an arm missing without his entire team by his side (an analogy he suspects both Barnes and Misty Knight wouldn’t appreciate), joking and arguing and fighting as they always did. And yet, everyone went about their day as usual.

“You really gotta quit mopin’, boy,” Yondu had said to him last night, when Peter had zoned out during dinner and nearly took his own eye out with a fork. “You think Gamora wants to see you like this? And you know Drax would kick your ass for slackin’.”

He threw himself into his studies and working on the Milano, which, to his surprise, was almost completely back to normal. He suspected that Stark had snuck some extra things into their supply locker when no one was looking, because Peter was pretty sure Rocket wouldn’t be caught dead with some of these Stark-branded tools lying around. He also got in some legitimate training sessions in the Combat Simulator and got up earlier to go jogging at the Academy Stadium, and as much as he hated it, the exercise took his mind off things for a little while, enough to let the fog lift from his brain.

 **Peter:** happy five-month anniversary. how’s it going?

 **Gamora:** seems like nebula found us. she sent a team of thugs and we ended up in a firefight.

 **Gamora:** everyone is ok though, but i did slice open one of my hands. it’s recovering

 **Peter:** ouch. but at least you’re making progress. any estimate?

 **Gamora:** hopefully end of the week

“Don’t think I’ve seen you so attached to your tablet before, Quill,” Rocket commented. The four of them were eating lunch together on the Milano, attempting to study for a superhero law exam. Well, three of them - Groot wasn’t actually enrolled in any classes on account of being child-sized at the moment, though he sat with them for support. “Gamora again?”

“What’d I tell you?” Yondu threw his hands up in the air, nearly flinging his pencil across the room in the process.

“I just wanted to see if anything changed, and she said they’ll be back by the end of the week,” Peter said defensively. “Besides, it’s technically our five-month anniversary today.”

“For a relationship that don’t exist,” Rocket snorted. “C’mon, Quill, just give in and ask her out for real. Stop being so miserable about it, she’ll probably say yes.”

“I am Groot!”

“No, I don’t think Quill should sing to her. That won’t end well,” Rocket said, patting Groot on the head. “Good effort, though.”

Peter leaned back in the armchair, frustrated. Exercise, studying, and repairs helped, but he needed a bigger distraction. One that wouldn’t remind him of his relationship that wasn’t real, and the fact that his friends could be dying somewhere far away at any time, and no one would know.

As if to answer his pleas, a voice came in from above. “Hello? Guardians?” For a single, crazy moment, Peter thought it was some god speaking to him (as in that trickster, Loki, not the big man upstairs), until he remembered the comms unit in the cockpit. He leaped up and took the ladder two rungs at a time, eager for something, _anything_ to keep his mind off of her - er, them.

“Hey, this is Quill,” he said, failing to tamper down the excitement in his voice.

“Uh, it’s Parker. You know. The other Peter,” said the voice. “Was hoping you guys were on the Milano, because there’s some stuff going on by the Academy gates? And everyone else is freaking out? Fury wanted to make sure you guys were okay.”

“What’s going on?” Peter’s mind was racing with the possibilities. Had Gamora and the others returned? Was Thanos here?

“Well.” Parker sounded reluctant to answer. “I was telling everyone that there might be some weirdness going on, because of me, because y’know, typical Parker luck. So, uh, Carnage might’ve arrived with some Symbiotes. Along with some of my ex-enemies, friends, and another two of my sort-of girlfriends?”

“...how many sort-of girlfriends do you _have_ , dude?”

“That’s not the point! I just, argh, we’ve got our hands full with the Symbiotes - me and Janet and Gwen and MJ are trying to take ‘em on - and I know you guys are probably super sad about half your team being gone, so here, distraction. They need a tour guide to get ‘em settled in, and the last time I asked Pepper she yelled at me about always being busy, and I’d get Stark to do it, but he hits on everything that moves, so please don’t flirt with Cindy, Anya, or Silver, especially because _your_ girlfriend will kill you, and - ”

“Whoa, slow down,” Peter huffed. He always felt a bit exhausted talking to the other Peter. “Fine, I’ll help.”

“Great! They’re at Avengers Hall right now, so if you’re not doing anything…”

* * *

Gamora woke up in the dark, slightly disoriented. She blinked for a moment to allow her enhanced vision to kick in, glancing over at Mantis, who was curled up next to her, her toes grazing Gamora’s ankles. Drax was a few feet away, snoring like there was nothing better to do. The three of them had decided to sleep in the common area of the ship instead of their own rooms, admittedly because they were starting to feel lonely in beds that weren’t actually theirs. Unlike Sanctuary, when she had been afraid to fall asleep, it was a comfort to have their bodies close by, the steady sounds of their breathing, the rise and fall of their chests, worries smoothed out of their faces as they slept.

Stretching, Gamora lithely pulled herself away as to not disturb Mantis, then got to her feet, walking over to the loading bay, taking in her surroundings. They had tracked Nebula to Berhert, oddly enough. It was as if she were retracing the Guardians’ stops throughout their missions. As for why, Gamora wasn’t sure. All she knew was that Nebula had been spotted at some military camp nearby and, curiously, hadn’t killed anyone yet.

She supposed when it came to redemption, Nebula’s chance at grasping it was slipping away with every kill she made. Fury only had so many chances he would afford her before he would think she was past the point of no return. It had been a conversation he had with Gamora all too many times before, noting that while Gamora appeared to be both noble in intention and remorseful in past actions, Nebula was a wild card, perhaps too wild. “But we can’t give up yet,” Fury had said, his voice gentler than she’d ever heard. “I know she’s important to you, which is why I’m letting her stay. We’ll guide her towards being a proper hero.”

Her mind wandered to Peter again, curious about what he would say if he were here. They had to keep their text communication short due to limited time, but she had a feeling - no, she _knew_ \- he would console her if they were physically together. He was good at things like that - it was why he was their leader, his silver tongue and quick thinking got them out of more scrapes than she could remember.

 _I miss Quill_ , Gamora thought with surprising ferocity. His soft laugh, his lopsided grin, that dewy-eyed look on his face when she said something he thought was interesting or funny. It had been four _agonizingly_ long weeks since she’d seen that look. Four long weeks since she’d held his hand, felt the calloused fingers tangled with hers, their shoulders pressed together like they’d been doing it forever. And the near kiss? She simply alluded it to a misstep on both their parts, an impulsive desire that couldn’t have possibly meant to him what it meant to her.

Of course, there were moments in which Gamora considered whether Peter liked her in _that_ way. He had flirted with her constantly before they became a team, and flirted with her every so often in small ways since then. On Ego’s planet, when they had danced together, he commented about how people would misunderstand their relationship if they were to witness it, but had otherwise made no other wisecrack about being a couple or implying he saw her as anything but a friend. As for other instances, she couldn’t be sure if it was any different to how he was with all the other girls on campus. And there were a _lot_ of girls on campus - beautiful, strong, intelligent women who also lived and breathed the hero lifestyle, but without the baggage of being a former assassin.

And that was where the problem was, wasn’t it? Gamora let out a shaky exhale as she mulled over her train of thought. It wasn’t so much that she didn’t deserve Peter, she wasn’t on _that_ level of self-loathing, it was that she couldn’t possibly be Peter’s type. Aside from the surface stuff - dancing, music, movies - they couldn’t possibly be compatible. He was cheerful, warm, emotional, full of curiosity. Meanwhile, Gamora felt like she was an emotional brick wall in comparison, a sullen soul who didn’t see value in seeking out new things or new people. Her pragmatism was what kept the Guardians in check, butting heads with Peter’s impulsiveness more than half a dozen times. They were complete opposites in so many ways.

But damn, she was warming up to the idea of _actually_ being Peter’s girlfriend. It probably wasn’t all that different to how they were acting now - the affectionate banter, the cuddles, the music and movies. Spending time together in a higher capacity didn’t sound all that bad. After all, some of her happiest moments for the past month had been in his company. The only difference was him expecting...more, that is, physically. Gamora had never been with anyone that way before, but she knew Peter had. His confidence alone spoke volumes about his comfort level with touch. And maybe, just maybe, she felt as if Peter was one of the few people she had ever been curious about touching in that way. She could almost picture it now - the way he’d held her close when they danced, or when they’d hugged in front of the Director - with his hands sliding further down her body, his breath hot on her neck...

“Gamora? Is everything okay?”

She spun around, alarmed, warmth rising in her cheeks. For some reason, she felt like she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t have. “Mantis, you shouldn’t sneak up on me, I could’ve accidentally stabbed you!”

“I am sorry,” Mantis whispered, mouth twisting a little in fear. “Are you having trouble sleeping? I can help.” She reached out as if to touch Gamora’s bicep, but she was instantly swatted away.

“Please don’t,” Gamora said cooly. Then she softened, knowing Mantis only wanted to help. “I’m fine. Did I wake you?”

“A little bit, but that is okay,” Mantis shrugged, moving to sit next to Gamora. “You appear to be deep in thought.”

“Worried about Nebula,” Gamora said, glancing down at her hands. “Nothing new there.”

Mantis’s antennae moved slowly, bending towards her. Her powers had improved immensely since she was recruited to the Academy, now being able to pick up faint empathic signals without physical contact. “You are thinking about how much you miss Peter.”

Gamora didn’t have the energy to scold Mantis about using her powers without consent. Sometimes, it just happened on its own. “It sounds silly, but our ‘anniversary’ was a few days ago. I was considering what to do if people ever find out it’s all a ruse.”

An odd look passed over the other girl’s face. “What if it was not a ruse?”

Gamora’s brow raised. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I just mean, that you and Peter have gotten very close over the past month. You have always been friends, but now you are inseparable. You both seem sad without the other,” Mantis commented thoughtfully. “What if...you tried being a couple for real?”

“Why would we do that?” Gamora hoped Mantis couldn't hear her voice crack the slightest bit on the last word.

“You care about each other very much, you spend a lot of time together, and I know Peter finds you very pretty. Do you think Peter is attractive?” Mantis asked.

“I - what? When did he say that?”

Mantis smiled serenely. “I am his sister. He tells me these things.”

Gamora looked up again, her fingers beginning to tap restlessly on her thigh. Mantis was so different from her and Nebula despite also being taken from her home at a young age. She could only hope Mantis would continue to find joy in the smallest of things for as long as possible. “Speaking of sisters…”

“You are changing the subject,” Mantis said, teasing. “But go on.”

“Sometimes...sometimes I wish that I could detach myself from Nebula. Emotionally, I mean. And I’ve tried, but I can't do it. I love her, and I want her to see how good she can be. She came so close when we were fighting Ego, but recently it seems like she's snapped again. I don't know what caused it, but it feels like this could really be the end for her this time.” She let out a slow sigh. “Quill is lucky to have a sister like you. You are a joy in our lives, Mantis, while Nebula feels like a storm cloud, threatening to strike.”

“I am not perfect, but I appreciate your kind words,” Mantis said. Her face was glowing, and not because of her antennae. “I believe Nebula will do the right thing. She wants to kill Thanos, yes?” Gamora nodded. “Then that is already the right thing, even if she is doing it the wrong way. Killing may not be the answer, but it may be the only choice if us heroes are to stop Thanos. She wants him to stop hurting and torturing and _killing_ people, so that is already a noble cause. She just needs to understand not to kill several other people to do it.”

“I like the way you think,” Gamora said softly. “Thank you, Mantis.” There was a comfortable silence, save for the muffled sounds of Drax’s snoring. She then decided to throw Mantis a bone, and besides, she couldn’t help but be curious. “Quill thinks I'm _very_ pretty, huh?”

Mantis laughed. “Peter has told me the story of when you first met back at the Cosmic Conservatory. He almost walked into a door when he first saw you.”

Gamora flushed deeply. She vaguely remembered that moment, how awkward it had been for him while she had rolled her eyes and resumed the task at hand. It had barely registered to her at the time, this odd, misplaced Terran boy who seemed quite clumsy. Now she wasn't sure what life would be like without him, though she was getting a glimpse of it now, and it was, frankly, awful.

 **Gamora [unsent]:** i look forward to returning home. i miss you.

* * *

Peter should have known the other Guardians were going to follow him to the Avengers Hall, despite trying to make up some story that would shoo them away. Yondu had perked up at the sound of more girls, while Groot was simply curious, and Rocket grumbled about how he was responsible for looking out for Groot, resulting in the four of them traipsing down to the quad.

The girls were being checked in by a frantic-looking Pepper, who was, as always, buried under a mountain of paperwork. She looked up when the door opened, poised to yell at whoever had come to bother her, and was surprisingly relieved at the sight of the Guardians. “Oh good, you’re here,” she sighed. “Ladies, these four will be your guides today, since I have _way_ too much on my plate right now. Peter, introduce yourself.”

Smiling his most winning of smiles, Peter introduced himself and the others, reaching out to shake their hands. “Another Peter, huh?” Cindy said upon hearing his name. “Nice to meet you.”

“What a cute little _el_ _árbol_ you have there,” Anya said, pointing at Groot, who was sitting on Peter’s shoulder, idly gnawing at one of the leaves growing out of his elbow. “What’s his name?”

“I am Groot!” he said proudly, puffing up his tiny little chest. Silver let out a little “aww” and reached over to gently pat his face with her finger, moving closer to Peter in the process.

“Who knew Groot would be so popular with the girls,” Rocket murmured to Yondu, watching as the three girls shuffled closer and began chatting amicably with the other two Guardians. “Quill’s gotta be happy about that.”

“Don’t forget the plan, boy,” Yondu whispered back. To Peter, he loudly said, “Should get goin’ before we run outta time and end up late for dinner, Quill! Plus you should prob’ly check in with your _girlfriend_ soon. Make sure she’s still alive and all that.”

Peter turned to shoot Yondu a dirty look before looking back at the girls. “My girlfriend, Gamora, she’s off-planet on a mission right now. But, uh, never mind that. Who here likes dancing? Because on this campus, you would _not_ believe it...”

* * *

In hindsight, Gamora should have never expected Nebula to be predictable. She told herself this as she went sprinting through the forest as fast as she possibly could, dodging what felt like an infinite amount of energy blasts coming from behind.

Drax was only a few feet behind, being more of a man of strength than a man of speed, but poor Mantis, who was still not completely up to par on her physical training, had resorted to ducking into a particularly thick bush, trembling, hoping Nebula and her team of military goons (and how had _that_ happened?) couldn’t see her.

“NEBULA!” Gamora hollered behind her. “SISTER, PLEASE!” She let out a startled shriek as Nebula dropped out of one of the trees in front of her, landing on her feet with impressively little impact. “Nebula,” she said, struggling for breath. “You have to come home, _please_.”

“So you _do_ remember that I exist, how nice,” Nebula sneered, lowering her blaster so she could stare Gamora down. “I refuse to continue playing house any longer, not when Thanos is out there. Do _not_ get in my way.”

“You cannot do it alone, Nebula,” Gamora said, her voice pleading. Drax had come to a stop behind her, and Mantis had crawled out as well, tentatively walking towards them. “You know that. Come home with us, and we’ll work together towards stopping him. I don’t even know if it’s possible, but we can try, _together_.”

There was a stutter of hesitation in Nebula’s footsteps, as if the fight had suddenly left her body. It wasn’t as if Gamora was telling her anything new - she had stressed, over and over again, that as strong as they were, as strong as they could be, there was only so much they could do alone. But Gamora also knew it was a cycle with her - Nebula became jealous, or stressed, or simply bored, and ideas would start forming in her brain, ideas of achieving the near impossible. Even as children, living in Sanctuary, she would become impatient with their other siblings and attempt to kill them in their sleep, desperate to prove herself. It was a foreign concept to Nebula, the idea of waiting, or even worse (in her mind), working with other people to wait.

“Look who’s become something of an _idealist_ ,” Nebula said, though it admittedly lacked the heat of her words before. She dropped her blaster on the ground with a loud clatter, causing her followers to exchange slightly relieved looks behind her. “You really think teamwork is the answer?”

“I know it is,” Gamora said fiercely, stepping forward to grasp Nebula’s hands in hers. “Nebula, I know you better than anyone. And you know _me_. You know how I almost left the Academy immediately after defeating Ronan. I had no desire to stay behind on this planet, with this group of people, when the real threat, Thanos, was still out there. But if there is anything I have learned in the past year we’ve been residing on Terra, is that it’s not about whether you can prove your worth alone, it’s about whether you believe you are better when you have others by your side. I have found that the answer is almost always yes.”

To her surprise, Nebula’s shoulders shook slightly, and there was the tiniest of sniffles, so quiet that Gamora was almost certain she imagined it. “Quill’s awful speech-making skills are rubbing off on you.” She lifted her head, her dark eyes meeting her sister’s. “I suppose I will come back. But only if you promise that we will form a proper plan of attack to kill our father. And that you’ll stop the tree from trying to be my friend.”

“I can’t guarantee Groot leaving you alone,” Gamora said through a watery laugh, and oh gosh, now she was kind of crying, too, “but we can start strategizing. I promise.”

Finally, _finally_ , she managed to pull Nebula into a sort of hug, her arms wrapped tightly around her middle, burying her face into Nebula’s neck. She could feel Nebula half-smiling against her shoulder, patting her on the back rather awkwardly. “You have become so sentimental,” Nebula said, half-mockingly, half-fondly. In the distance, the girls could hear Drax crying a little, too. “Let’s go before I change my mind - and I _will_ change my mind.”

* * *

Upon returning to the ship, Gamora led Nebula to one of the beds, knowing her sister was likely exhausted of emotions and required rest, but was too stubborn to say so out loud. Before leaving, she hesitated at the door, curious. “You were retracing the steps of our Guardians’ missions. Why?”

Nebula became uncharacteristically shifty-eyed, squirming slightly in her spot. “I thought Thanos would try to find you there.”

“You think I believe that?” Gamora folded her arms defiantly. “Come on, what’s the real reason?”

“I...suppose I wanted to understand the life you were living without me. When I was simply the one chasing you down, or being dragged along as your prisoner, instead of being by your side, as I have always been.” Nebula’s head bowed. “That bar you went to on Knowhere, the clearing on Berhert. The Kyln, where you first formed an alliance with your Guardians.”

“ _Our_ Guardians,” Gamora corrected softly. “You are a Guardian too, Nebula. If you behave, Director Fury will allow you to join our missions, and we can work side-by-side again. Okay?”

“Always so patronizing,” Nebula said softly, looking back up at Gamora with suspiciously glassy eyes. “Fly us back, already.”

Gamora simply nodded and left, making her way up to the pilot’s seat, a giant grin on her face. Mantis, who had decided to park herself in the co-pilot’s seat out of boredom, immediately commented on this. “You were wrong before, Gamora.  _You_ are the best sister of all of us.”

She smiled over at Mantis before moving to start the controls. “Considering the amount of tests and projects I’ve missed in our absence, trying to get her back? I should hope so.” She passed her tablet over to Mantis. “Can you tell Quill we’re returning with Nebula now?”

Mantis nodded, eagerly tapping away. There was a comfortable silence for a few minutes as she focused on her task, while Gamora began their ascent. Drax ambled in casually, settling down in the passenger seat and nodding at them both in greeting. “Gamora? What is this message here in your drafts?”

Gamora felt as if the breath had been knocked out of her, though she knew she couldn’t take her eyes off the dashboard window to get her tablet back. “It’s nothing. Delete it.”

“What have you found, Mantis?” Drax said curiously, leaning forwards to read, his eyes widening in response. “Gamora. Have you and Quill started a romantic relationship for real and not told us?”

For a moment, she felt trapped. They clearly were reading a little too closely into her message, implying that they thought it held romantic connotations, but it _didn’t_. Gamora just felt it was too...honest, that was all. The only reason she hadn’t sent it, obviously. “No, we haven’t,” she said through gritted teeth. “I just thought that Quill might try to join us if he thought we were having trouble, so I didn’t send it. That’s all.”

“If you say so,” Mantis said, sounding irritatingly delighted at Gamora’s discomfort. “I still think you should consider it.”

* * *

It was a particularly nice Sunday, the day that Gamora, Mantis, Drax, and Nebula returned. Everyone was outside, sunning themselves, soaking up the rays and enjoying their shared moment of peace, after Parker and the other spider heroes had chased off Carnage’s Symbiotes (hopefully, for good, optimistically, not likely).

The newest spider recruits had taken a liking to the Guardians, it seemed, particularly Peter and his cheerful, sweet demeanor. Cindy seemed determined to stay away from Spider-Man (she had muttered something about spider pheromones that Peter really didn’t want to know about), and had taken to chatting with Peter whenever they passed each other by.

“You gotta have a cool backstory,” Peter told her that Sunday afternoon. “Every hero has one. So what’s yours?”

“I was bitten by the same spider that bit Peter Parker and then kidnapped and held hostage for years,” Cindy said, far more energy in her voice than her words warranted. Peter could only blink in response.

“I’m...so sorry?” he said, confused. “You seem pretty chipper for someone who had to go through something like that.”

“I really like being a superhero,” she confessed. “But at the same time, sometimes people say things that I don’t really understand. I guess it’s because I was locked away for so long, long enough that I don’t really follow the new culture anymore.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “Same here! I mean, sort of, I had free will and everything, but being away from my home planet so long meant coming back to a place I didn’t really know anymore.”

“Exactly how I feel!” Cindy was practically bouncing at this point. “It’s like, everything looks and feels the same at first, and you start to think that maybe it’s just you that’s changed.”

“But then you realize you haven’t changed at all, and it’s kind of depressing, because you feel like your life came to a stop at some point and you didn’t notice it happening,” Peter nodded. “Look at that - we have something weirdly specific in common.”

She grinned widely, reaching to squeeze his arm. “Kindred spirits.”

* * *

Gamora was pretty sure she wanted to sleep for at least five days straight, but she knew she could last longer than the others, who had dragged themselves back to the Milano, to their real beds, the moment they had touched down. She needed - no, _wanted_ , Gamora, don’t get those mixed up - to see Peter so he would know they were back.

As always, Jessica Jones was helpful in informing Gamora that everyone was out on the lawn by the quad. “You might want to give your boyfriend a talking-to,” she had also added, though wouldn’t divulge anything when prodded further. Confused, exhausted, and slightly irritated, Gamora made her way over, only to witness something that made her stomach curl.

It seemed normal, at first. Yondu was sprawled out on the lawn without a care in the world, Rocket was using a water pistol to create a “jump rope” of water for Groot who seemed more interested in drinking it, and Peter was...talking to a girl. A very pretty girl, with dark hair and eyes, who was laughing and touching his arm, a warm smile on her face. “Kindred spirits,” she said.

When looking back at that moment, Gamora wasn’t sure what she was thinking, or if she was even thinking at all. However, what she did know was that Peter certainly wasn’t expecting Gamora to stalk up to him, grab him by the collar, and kiss him senseless. Once they pulled apart, Gamora cupped Peter’s face in her hands, searching, _desperately_ , for that sappy look on his face again.

He smiled at her, eyes glassy with joy, his hands immediately going to her waist and squeezing, a warmth stirring in her belly at the simple touch. “Hey, Gamora. I mi-...it’s good to see you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gamora - goddamn superhero, great sister, kinda thirsty for Peter. Same, girl.
> 
> In case anyone was wondering, the three girls are [Spider-Girl](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anya_Corazon), [Silver Sable](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Silver_Sable), and [Silk](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Silk_\(comics\)). I thought Cindy was a pretty good choice for someone who could relate to Peter, plus I just love Cindy a lot regardless. Also, Gamora's feelings towards Cindy may not be what you think, as you'll find out in the next chapter (hint: she's not exactly jealous, it's something else).
> 
> Thanks again for the comments and kudos, I'm so glad people are enjoying this! Just so you guys know, next week's updates are going to be on Tuesday and Friday instead. My best friend is in town on Monday and I haven't seen her in a few months, so I won't be at my computer at all. I'll also be making gifs like crazy on Tuesday once the digital copy of _Vol. 2_ is out, so if you have any requests (maybe of the Starmora variety?), feel free to drop into my [ask](http://bevioletskies.tumblr.com/ask)! Alright, self-promo over haha


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Gamora arrive at the wrong conclusion, Nebula offers some surprising perspective, and new plans are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little reminder that while these guys are heavily based on the MCU Guardians, they're still a lot younger (think like 20 - 24?) and therefore are a little more insecure than their movie counterparts, if that makes sense. That's my justification for why Peter and Gamora are so bad at this sometimes, oh god

Gamora wished she could say she had done more after that moment. She wished that she could have told Peter about her confusing feelings about him lately, about the things Mantis had said about them being together for real, or at the very least, say that she had missed him (because she did, _god_ , did she miss him).

But that would’ve required confidence, and for some reason, for maybe the first time in her life, confidence had left her hanging.

She wasn’t even sure what it was that left her so weirdly, emotionally numb, the second she was back in his arms. Maybe it was the exhaustion of the mission, the whirlwind of emotions that swirled about in her brain from having to rescue Nebula from the brink of no turning back. Or maybe it was just the warmth of Peter’s smile, perhaps _too_ calming for once, washing away every conflicting thought she had been having.

Peter, despite being an open book of emotions himself, seemed unaware of Gamora’s internal plight, bending to kiss her forehead and hold her for a while longer. The moment was ruined when Rocket hollered for them to get a room (“or just go back to the ship already, don’t make out in front of everyone like a buncha losers!”). Groot also insisted on squeezing himself between their heads so he could snuggle Gamora’s face and chatter to her nonsensically, his mouth running a mile a minute.

Eventually, Peter walked Gamora back to the Milano, mostly in silence, their hands tangled together. He insisted that she needed a nap, promising that they could catch up over dinner with the rest of the group. Part of her wanted to ask him to come to bed with her, maybe chat there, _alone_ , but it strangely felt too forward. Instead, she could only smile and nod in agreement, having done enough fighting for the past month to leave her craving deep sleep, in a bed so uncomfortable that she knew it had to be home.

Once she’d buried herself in her sheets, the rustle of cheap cotton nearly as comforting as the smell of ship’s constant stench of machine oil, she decided she’d talk to Peter about her feelings after dinner. After all, she could play it off as part of their game, maybe find some indirect way of asking if he felt similarly, without saying anything herself. That could work, right?

Problem number one - she slept through dinner, though she could vaguely remember Peter kneeling near her head, pulling her duvet back over her after it’d slipped during her restless slumber, whispering softly that he could bring her a plate later.

Problem number two - she slept through the rest of the night.

Problem number three - she didn’t wake until she had five minutes to get ready before her first class started, and had to sprint across campus before the All-Father could get mad.

Classes didn’t end until 3 PM, and even then, Gamora had to go to the gym for sparring practice with Natasha. “We can cancel if you want to,” Natasha had said. “I mean, you’ve been gone for four weeks, we can miss one more session if it means you rest longer.” But strangely, Gamora had found herself insisting. Her plan seemed less and less of a good idea, the more she thought about it. If she put it off just a little bit longer, maybe it wouldn’t be a conversation she’d want to have after all.

“It feels weird being back,” she said the moment she had arrived, watching Natasha’s reflection as the other girl stretched in the mirror. “I must admit, I wasn’t sure I would make it out alive. Nebula was able to coerce an entire military unit into shooting us down.”

“I'm glad you were able to convince her otherwise,” Natasha said, turning to smile gently at her. “Would've been devastating if any of you had died.”

“You really think I'm that cared for,” Gamora said. It wasn't a question. “I imagine Quill, for example, would be much more of a loss.”

“You’re a valuable person to a lot of people here, including _me_ , by the way, and not just because you’re an incredible fighter,” Natasha said, passing her a practice sword. “And speaking of Quill, imagine how _he'd_ react if he lost you. He'd probably lose his mind.”

Gamora settled into her starting stance, though she hesitated to move. “We’ve become like family. I’d imagine any of us getting killed would hurt him,” she commented. “We haven't actually talked since I returned. But he seems to have made new friends in my absence.”

Natasha smirked, teasing. “Silk especially seems to have made a connection with him. You jealous?”

"I trust him. And from what I could tell, she seems to share a lot of similar personality...quirks...as well,” Gamora returned as diplomatically as possible. “Now, let us fight.”

She returned to the Milano mere minutes before dinner was ready, feeling rather desperate to see everyone’s faces again. Drax and Mantis were busying themselves in the kitchen as always, while Yondu and Nebula seemed to be having a competition on who could take up the most leg room on the coffee table, resulting in them kicking each other like bratty children. Groot was sleeping on Rocket’s head, who seemed unperturbed by this as he reloaded some of his BFGs with fuel.

“Hello, Gamora,” Mantis said happily, looking up from her chopping board. “You are just in time for dinner! Maybe you could go get Peter? He is in his room.”

Gamora narrowed her eyes in suspicion. Mantis’s pushiness, as unusually persistent as it was, was something to come back to another time, so she obliged and went to knock on Peter’s door. “Come in,” he called.

He was sprawled on his bed, surrounded by books and a mess of papers, his Walkman by his side. “Dinner’s almost ready,” she said. She felt weirdly uneasy, the corner of her mouth twitching as if to dare her to tell him what she’d been thinking about.

Peter rolled onto his side to look at her properly, smiling. “We got time to chat before then?” He patted the spot next to him, and Gamora settled in, realizing she could put this off no longer. To her surprise, the first thing Peter did was reach for her, cupping her jaw in his hands. His eyes roamed her face, searching for something. “Didn’t get a chance to ask you yesterday - are you doing okay?”

“Physically, I’m alright. All of my minor injuries have already healed,” she said carefully, wondering how long he was planning on holding her this way. “As for my mental state...I guess I’m just not used to subduing someone with words. How do you do it so easily?”

“Sheer dumb luck,” he said cheerfully. “Doesn’t always work, though. I mean, most of the weird scars on my body come from girls who weren’t so happy with me.”

“Well, I’m mildly irritated by you all the time, and I don’t think I’ve left any marks on your body yet,” Gamora teased. Peter released her very suddenly, an odd expression passing over him as he considered her words. “What happened on campus while we were away? Those new students, who were they?”

He shrugged, nonchalant, finally tearing his eyes away from her. “Other Peter’s got a rogues gallery that would make anyone’s head explode. More enemies, friends, sort-of girlfriends. Something about Symbiotes, I don’t know, Janet would know better than me. I was just a tour guide.”

“They enjoyed your company,” she said, twisting her rings slowly. “Especially that girl, Cindy.”

“Turns out we have a lot in common,” he replied.

Gamora hummed in response, turning onto her back to look at the ceiling. To her surprise, Peter appeared to have printed off polaroid versions of the selfies they had taken on their weekend trip and stuck them up there, including the kiss in Shakespeare Park. _It felt so simple back then_ , Gamora thought. _Now I’m acting like a jealous girlfriend to someone I’m not even dating. What is wrong with me?_

“Maybe that’s worth exploring,” she suggested. She hoped her voice didn’t sound as tumultuous as she felt, her stomach threatening to turn as she spoke. She’d only briefly introduced herself to Cindy, spoke to her for all of thirty seconds, but it was clear that she had a sweet, energetic nature, upbeat to a fault. Seeing Peter talk to her only made it clearer that Gamora was right, as much as she didn’t want to be - he would be compatible with someone that wasn’t her.

So now, new plan. Instead of telling Peter how she felt, help him find someone else. Someone who didn’t have to babysit her homicidal sister, someone who didn’t have a kill count in the hundreds and nightmares about bloodied bodies in the thousands. Someone who would actually know how to be a good girlfriend, not whatever it was that Gamora was attempting right now. Someone who could make him happy.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we’re going to ‘break up’ eventually,” Gamora said, her voice steady. “And knowing you, you’re not going to stay single forever, right? If you and Cindy share commonalities, maybe she could be your next girlfriend. Your _real_ girlfriend.”

Peter stared at her quizzically, as if she had grown a second head. _What_? In the time that she’d been gone, he had come to realize that he liked her, more than he ever thought he would have (and no, he wasn’t going to break out the other “L” word yet, it made everything feel too real). He’d hoped that after Gamora had recovered from her grueling mission, had settled back into her life as it was, they would be able to talk things out. After all, they’d been sharing so many secrets now, conversations he would’ve never dreamed of having with someone as private as her, and maybe, one day, he would have the courage to tell her his biggest secret yet. After all, there was always the chance she felt the same, even if their near-kiss had been an impulsive accident. Now, she seemed almost too confident about him dating someone after they were “broken up”.

Finally, he said, “Cindy seems pretty cool, but I’m not interested in dating her or anything. Just a new friend.”

Despite Peter’s best efforts, Gamora seemed oddly evasive, refusing to meet his gaze. His fingers twitched, wanting to touch her face again, tip her chin upwards so he could read her expression, but he wasn’t about to risk it, not when she seemed so withdrawn. “Oh, well, I guess that makes sense. After all, having two ‘serious’ relationships in a row isn’t really in your purview, is it? I think people would be surprised to see you committing to another person so soon. It would be smart to wait.”

“You really think I care about that?” He shot straight up to a sitting position, eyes cold as they fixated on her face, now staring up at him tentatively. His voice was dangerously low, making Gamora shiver. It was unlike anything she’d ever heard. “You know me better than that, Gamora. Or at least I thought you did. But now I guess I know what you really think of me, hey?” He stood, moving towards the door as if to leave, before turning on his heel. “Could’ve sworn we had this conversation already. I care about being a good leader, a good brother, a good friend. Why would I give a _shit_ about being seen as a guy who plays with other people’s feelings? Maybe that’s what I was like back then, but wow, really, good to know you still see me like that now.”

Sitting up slowly, Gamora finally lifted her chin to look at him, her eyes glassy. “I...apologize,” she mumbled, unusually timid. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m just as bad as that man, aren’t I?”

He sighed, reaching over to put a hand on her shoulder. To his alarm, Gamora flinched away from his touch, scrambling to her feet and pushing past him towards the door. “Gamora, hey, I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that, you’re not like that guy, I just…” She ignored him in favour of practically running out of his room, a choked sound escaping her throat before she could stop herself. _Shit_ , Peter thought. _I really hurt her feelings_.

In hindsight, it wasn’t as if her perspective on their increasingly messy fake relationship situation was that far off. Students had been more surprised about _him_ being in a relationship than _her_ being in a relationship, despite him having more experience with people.  He did flirt, constantly and consistently, with many of the people he came into contact with. For the most part, it was just a personality quirk as with all of the oddities that others came to expect of him - the dancing, the impulsiveness, the odd solutions he’d come up with when he improvised. He didn’t expect much to evolve from the flirting, in all honesty. As a Ravager, he charmed people into giving information or goods. As a Conservatory student, he used it as a coping mechanism. Now, as an Academy student, he was surrounded by a lot of powerful, talented women who were much more Peter’s type than some of the girls from his old days. It was natural, wanting to impress them as much as they impressed him.

So yes, maybe Gamora was onto something. He shouldn’t have gotten so angry, but Peter didn’t like the implications of her words - like this relationship was just a checkpoint before leading to something else, a precursor to a “real” relationship. Because after all, this one was starting to feel _too_ realistic. Holding her and kissing her, exchanging text messages late into the night, telling her things he’d never told anyone before. Laughing, dancing, singing words in her ear that he was too afraid to speak aloud...all for this long con, and for what? Ten thousand units. That was all this was about, wasn’t it?

Shaking himself, Peter walked out of his room slowly, head spinning. “Get a grip, dude,” he whispered to himself sternly. “It’s not real.”

Dinner was tense, unusually so. It was normal at first, with everyone fighting over the dishes, arguing over who was supposed to be in charge of cutting up Groot’s portion into smaller pieces, and disagreeing about whatever they’d learned in class that day, but with Peter and Gamora being so withdrawn, the others started to take notice.

“Who pissed in your stew, Quill?” Yondu said, slapping him heartily on the back. “Eat up or else - ”

“Yeah, I got it,” Peter said, shoveling his food hastily into his mouth and nearly choking in the process. As ridiculous as they were, he didn’t really want to hear another one of Yondu’s weird, albeit empty threats.

“You are stressed,” Mantis said sadly, setting her plate down. “What is wrong, Peter?”

He put down his food as well, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m, uh, not really hungry right now. Think I’m coming down with something. I’m gonna go back to my room and sleep it off.”

He could feel everyone’s eyes following him in worry, but it didn’t matter. He knew Gamora hadn’t even looked up.

* * *

For the rest of the week, it was as if they had given up on the pretense of their relationship altogether. They sat together in classes but said almost nothing to each other, didn’t hold hands or kiss once, and their classmates were starting to wonder.

“If you’re having relationship problems, you can talk to me, Gamora,” Janet had said to her in the girls’ locker room before combat training. “I’d hate to see you and Peter fall apart.”

“We’re just having a bit of a rough time,” Gamora had told her, though she didn’t sound too convinced of her own words. She and Peter had fought plenty of times before, on a near daily basis, in fact, screamed until their throats were dry. But something about that one thing she said, something that she had thought to be so trivial, mere passing commentary, had tipped the scale for Peter, and in all honesty, it scared her. Not Peter himself, but the fact she had even said such a thing about him, had made him feel so low.

Outside of class, the two of them avoided each other like it was a sickness, their tension unlike anything the Guardians had seen before. Groot looked quite crestfallen when Peter didn’t show up to dinner three nights in a row, letting out a sad little “I am Groot” in an attempt not to cry at his missing “father”. Rocket had to hum him to sleep as a means of distracting him.

“Sister, I refuse to talk to you about Quill,” Nebula said loudly on Thursday night, as she plopped herself down, uninvited, on Gamora’s bed. “But your sad nature is even making _me_ appear cheerful, so stop it.”

“Because that’s how it works. You ask me to stop being sad, and it just _happens_ ,” Gamora retorted dryly, setting her book aside. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

"I’m bored,” Nebula shrugged. “I’ve finished all the catch-up work that the Director insisted upon giving me in my absence.”

“ _And_ you think I need a distraction,” Gamora said, a smile beginning to grow on her face. “How kind.”

“Shut up,” Nebula shot back, although she was starting to smirk in return. “I have an idea. You are going to come with me.”

* * *

An hour later, the sisters were sitting on the roof of the Avengers Hall, observing the students that were still roaming around campus that had plunged into darkness, only letting the dim lights of the streetlamps guide their way. Nebula was holding what Gamora suspected were binoculars she’d stolen from Jessica Jones (the “JJ <3 LC” scratched into the side certainly confirmed it), searching for something.

“Look at them,” Nebula said, after a few minutes of silence. “I wonder what it’s like to be _normal_.”

“Our classmates aren’t exactly the best examples of ‘normal’,” Gamora pointed out. “When the most normal students are super spies, your threshold is notably higher.”

“Picky, picky,” Nebula sighed. “I only meant that many of them haven’t endured the things that we have. Tortured and torn apart - myself more than you, but I’ll admit that you were hurt as well.”

“Not everyone requires tragedy to spur them into being a hero,” Gamora said, leaning forward to rest her forearms against the railing, fingernails tapping idly on the metal. “People choose to be good because they _are_ good. I wonder what that’s like.”

“Your moral compass is on the straight and narrow,” Nebula said, “so I don’t know why you’re acting like you’re fallen from grace.”

“We have both done things we aren’t proud of, as much as _you_ hate to admit it,” Gamora replied. “We have killed far too many innocent beings to be truly absolved of our sins. But we’re here regardless, being forgiven by people we do not deserve. That has to count for something.”

“Which is why we should protect our ‘new friends’ by slaughtering our father.” Nebula put the binoculars down on her lap. Gamora squinted to see what Nebula had been observing - it was the Young Avengers, sprawled out on the lawn. Billy was casting some light spell in the air above them, making the light swirl into shapes, causing the others to laugh. Teddy was snuggled into his side, casually draping an arm across Billy’s stomach, and Cassie, Kate, and America were doubled over with giggles. “They do not deserve what we have suffered through. We can suffer a little bit longer if it means we can put an end to his terror.”

Gamora was, frankly, astonished by Nebula’s words. For so long, Nebula’s single-mindedness about killing Thanos seemed like a one-woman revenge story, fueled by the uncontrollable rage of one person against their abuser. To hear her speak fondly (for Nebula, that is) of people who never gave her a second glance, it was...incredible.

“We can’t start with Thanos, you know that,” Gamora said gently. “We have to work our way up his chain of command, strip him of his supporters until he has no one by his side anymore.”

“So, the Black Order,” Nebula nodded. “When do we start?”

“When we have an actual plan, Nebula,” Gamora said, chuckling despite herself. “But I’m glad you’re enthusiastic about something for once in your life.”

Nebula didn’t respond, though she inched marginally closer so their legs were pressed together. It might’ve been the first physical contact she’d ever initiated that didn’t result in grievous bodily harm. “Do you remember that night on Sanctuary when we played a trick on Korath?”

“Of course I do,” Gamora said, smiling wider now. “We were just little girls, and to us, he was a big, mean teenager. We fashioned small picks out of rock and put them in his implants while he slept.”

“I quite literally expected his head to explode,” Nebula admitted, and Gamora laughed, leaning forward to bury her face in her arms to hide her giggles. “He never did realize it was us.”

“He suspected it, though,” Gamora said, still chuckling. “We were the stealthiest of all of Thanos’s children.”

“We cannot be the only ones left,” Nebula said, suddenly clutching Gamora’s wrist. “There must be others who would also be willing to take him down.”

“They may not have gone through the same training as us. We cannot ask that of complete strangers,” Gamora said sadly. “Knowing Thanos, he could have hundreds of ‘children’ out there, abandoned because they were not strong enough. But _we_ will be.”

“We have to be,” Nebula agreed, releasing Gamora’s hand. They glanced back over at the quad, where the Defenders were sneaking in, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. Clearly, a mission in Hell’s Kitchen had gone well - Elektra was practically skipping with glee, and Luke and Jessica were practically attached at the hip, Jessica grinning up at Luke with a rare softness in her eyes.

“For them,” Gamora said quietly, nodding.

* * *

In a moment of weakness, Peter had made a list. Granted, it wasn’t the best use of his time, but when had he ever claimed to be the most productive of students? Besides, writing it all out might clear his head of the fog he’d been experiencing all week, or hell, the whole time Gamora had been gone.

 _Things I want in a girlfriend_.

Peter supposed the title sounded somewhat misogynistic, like a laundry list of shallow characteristics that frat boys talked about when they were both drunk and sober. For all of Peter’s peacocking tendencies, he wasn’t _that_ guy, never wanted to be that guy, and yet, he found himself questioning what he was looking for. After all, what with Gamora’s insistence on him pursuing a relationship after they were “broken up”, she had clearly removed herself as an option. As much as it hurt, maybe it was time to step back and think about how to move on. There were seven weeks remaining in this ruse of theirs, seven incredibly long weeks before the yearbooks were out, and only then, could he try to get over her.

Not that he wanted to. _God_ , he did not want to. He could still feel her whispering in his ear, moving ever so slowly, her impossibly long eyelashes fluttering closed as they closed the gap. _Almost_ closed the gap. What would’ve happened if they had?

_Funny. Thinks I’m funny. Likes music and movies. Can quote movies. Dances. Strong. Powerful. Beautiful. Wields a giant sword. Gorgeous red hair. Scolds me for leaving dirty towels on the bathroom floor -_

Alright, that was enough. He hastily scribbled out the last three and threw the list aside. Maybe this wasn’t going to help at all. If anything, it was making it worse, reminding himself of all the things he lo - _liked_ \- about her. _Knock, knock_. “Who is it?” he snapped, making no attempt to hide his frustration.

“It’s, uh, Peter. Parker. You knew that, you’re the other Peter - ”

“I’m not really in the mood to do you more favours, Parker,” Peter retorted. After all, the last one had landed him in more of a mess than he could have ever anticipated.

“It’s not that, it’s just, your girlfriend’s been standing here for like, twenty minutes, but she hasn’t knocked, and I thought if she’s not knocking, maybe I should knock for her, because you two are clearly having problems and I just wanna help, and I’m gonna go now because she looks like she wants to kill me, and she _can_ , so, bye!” His voice faded very suddenly with his last few words. Peter suspected Parker had taken off in a sprint.

He opened the door to see Gamora standing there in her pajamas, her hair in a topknot, looking rather morose. “Quill,” she said softly. “I know it’s late, but can I come in?” He stepped aside and shut the door behind her. Gamora paused for a moment, considering where to sit, until she finally chose his desk chair, deciding it was a comfortable distance. “We really shouldn’t avoid each other like this,” she said. “It’s not good for the team, and it’s not good for our friendship, either. I…” She took a deep breath. “I miss you.”

Peter wasn’t sure what she was going to say, but he certainly hadn’t expected that. He moved to sit on his bed, wishing he had his Walkman on when she’d arrived. At least it would give him something to do with his hands. “I miss you, too. And I’m so _incredibly_ sorry that I snapped at you like that. You didn’t deserve it.”

“But I shouldn’t have said it,” Gamora exclaimed, shuffling closer to grasp his hands in hers. “That might’ve been what I thought about you before, but I don’t think of you that way now. You are...not the frivolous playboy I thought you were when we first met. You’re a good leader, and a good friend. My _best_ friend. And I don’t like this...this thing, where we stop talking to each other.”

"We’ve been pretty good about talking things out in the past,” Peter said, smiling weakly at her. “I don’t even know why what you said got to me so badly, I just know it did. So...let’s just call it water under the bridge?”

She stared at him. “Your Terran idioms confuse me. But if that means that we can move past this, the things we’ve said to each other that we both regret...I’d...really appreciate that.”

Feeling brave, he gently tugged on her hands, pulling her to her feet. She walked closer towards him until she was standing between his legs. Looking up at her, that signature spark in his eyes, he murmured, “Then let’s do that. And maybe we can start with another question? Haven’t done that in a while.”

Gamora couldn’t contain the grin spreading over her face, relieved. She bent to wrap her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. As his arms immediately moved to pull her in tight, his entire body warm, steady, _strong_ beneath hers, she paused to let the exhilaration of feeling at home again settle into her bones. “I guess I can’t help but be curious...have you had any relationships other than Carol?”

He finally released her, settling her down next to him on the bed. His head was bowed slightly, but not out of fear, more out of unusual shyness. “No, I haven’t. I guess I shouldn't be surprised you thought otherwise, though. I do talk the big talk, don’t I?”

“Considering you've been able to charm people into or out of anything, I'm honestly curious about why you haven't.”

“I never had anyone I was that interested in,” he admitted. “People I found attractive, people I slept with. But I didn’t know what I was looking for in a relationship, so I never bothered looking.”

“But you know now,” she prompted, causing his heart to skip a beat. “You told me.”

“Made a list, too,” Peter said before he could stop himself. At her raised eyebrow, he grabbed the piece of paper from his desk and passed it to her, hoping she couldn't read through the scribbles. To his dismay, Gamora’s keen eye never failed her, as she pointed to them immediately.

“What happened here?”

“Changed my mind,” he said easily, taking it back. “Didn't think it through. So, while we're on the topic of relationships - do you feel like you're ready for a real one? Or is it something that's not on your mind right now?”

“A year ago, I would've said they were impossible, but I think now I’d be open to one.” Gamora’s eyes flickered around the room, taking it in. It was unfamiliar to her in comparison to his space on the Milano, but still sang of Peter’s personality in every decoration, every book on his desk and every bit of dirty laundry strewn across the floor. _Typical Quill_ , she thought fondly. _Never very neat. Always did leave towels all over the bathroom floor._

“What changed?” he said quietly. Peter was genuinely curious. He couldn’t imagine someone with her upbringing being comfortable with romantic relationships, but then again, he never would have imagined her being comfortable with anyone, considering how skittish and _angry_ she’d been when they first talked.

“Me, I guess. Turns out letting people into my life wasn’t such a bad idea after all.” She smiled, shifting a little closer, causing the mattress to dip. She bounced a little, frowning as she glanced down as if it had offended her. “Quill, why is your bed so much nicer than mine?”

“Pepper set me up with a better mattress.” He watched as Gamora laid down on her side, pulling her hair out of her topknot and letting it fan out across the pillow. After looking around, considering, she pulled the sheets around her body, turning to hide her face underneath the silky duvet. He hoped she couldn't hear his breath hitch at the sight. “Sure are getting comfortable there.”

“It's been a long day,” she admitted. “Nebula and I had a really nice talk before I came here, and I’ve been thinking a lot about what you - _you guys_ mean to me. And maybe I don’t want to spend the rest of my night alone with my thoughts. Is that silly?”

“Not at all. You're welcome to stay,” Peter said, his voice cracking slightly. “It's probably better, too. If you tried to sneak out of my room now, Hill would probably see and report you to Fury.” She hummed in response, her eyes already fluttering closed.

He turned off the light and got in next to her, realizing too late that a double bed meant they were basically pressed up against each other, much closer than they had been in the hotel room’s king-sized mattress. She was warm, her body temperature running a little hotter than a Terran’s, and she felt too familiar already - the sharpness of her elbows, the slope of her shoulders, the curve of her hips, neatly slotted against his torso. He could smell the toothpaste and chocolate (Mantis wasn't the only one with a sweet tooth) on her breath, see the silver markings on her face glinting from the moonlight that streamed in through the window. The rigid tension of the week had left her face, and Peter once again was overwhelmed by the desire to kiss her.

“Good night, Quill,” she said, her voice barely above a breath.

“Night,” he murmured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I did say this was slow burn, didn't I? Trust me, I'm bashing their heads together myself, and I'm the one writing this haha
> 
> I know this kind of seems like it's heading downhill from here, but they might surprise you from this point forward ;) Next chapter is a fluff fest!
> 
> Thanks for the comments and kudos!! All the lovely comments about my characterization make me so freaking happy :)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janet announces two new school-wide events, Gamora tries to change her strategy when it comes to dealing with her feelings, and Yondu is the captain of this ship, and no, I'm not talking about the Eclector.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, Yondu being alive and well in this AU of mine might be one of my favourite parts about writing it.

So maybe, _just maybe_ , it was a little narcissistic for Peter to think this way, but it seemed as if the entirety of the Academy was breathing a little easier once he and Gamora had made up, and were successfully faking it again. They held hands wherever they walked (so long as the others weren’t with them - Rocket had taken to making kissing noises whenever they stood a little too close together), kissed whenever they had to part ways for classes, and told stories about their “dates” to anyone who would listen.

Except this time, unlike their “origin story”, as Peter had called it, the “dates” were nearly one hundred percent truth. They talked about the rude SHIELD agent, the date in Shakespeare Park, the musical, the museum - they even mentioned dancing in the hotel room, in which Gamora rolled her eyes in pretend fond annoyance, while Peter winked at their enraptured audience. “Can always count on a romantic song to set the mood,” he had said cheerfully. Hey, if they weren’t going to talk about how that night had ended in private, they could at least play it up in public.

On Friday afternoon, after classes were over and everyone had dispersed out onto the quad, Janet was once again poised to make announcements, this time sitting atop the bulletin board, megaphone in hand. “Attention, Academy students!” she hollered, as if she wasn’t already amplifying her voice enough. “Just a reminder that voting ends in two weeks, so get your ballots in. We need more volunteers for ballot counters, sign-ups are available at Avengers Hall. Also, we have two new super exciting events ready to share with you guys!”

“Now what,” Rocket groaned. “She ain’t gonna break out a confetti gun, is she?”

“Ten units it’ll be a fog machine instead,” Yondu said.

“Deal. Shake on it.”

“As a school of heroes, we’re always working towards saving the day. I mean, that’s our number one goal here, right?” The crowd cheered ecstatically. “But I think there’s one more thing that we can do to close out this school year as a way of giving back - a fundraiser festival!” Janet kicked her legs up and down in excitement. “There’s so much talent at this school that doesn’t always get celebrated the way that our hero-ing skills do. So, you can either sign up to present a talent, _or_ , volunteer to run a booth! There will be a bake sale, a dunk tank, a temporary tattoo artist, and maybe we can get a kissing booth set up?” She winked, causing giggles to ripple through the crowd. Director Fury was shaking his head nearby, arms folded in defiance. _This_ was what he got for running a superhero school full of teens and young adults.

“I am Groot?”

“Kissin’ you’s like kissin’ a baby, Groot. Don’t think anyone here’s running for president anytime soon, ‘cept maybe Cap.”

“I have also finally gotten Director Fury to agree to host a prom this year! Tickets are on sale now at the Avengers Hall, and ticket sales, plus _all_ our fundraising money, will go towards various charities around the world _and_ Damage Control right here in New York.” Janet beamed. “The theme for this year’s prom will be…”

“Ten units it’s _Under the Sea_.”

“I bet ten it’ll be _A Night to Remember_.”

“... _Masquerade Madness_!” Janet squealed. Yondu and Rocket muttered “damn!” under their breaths in sync. “Everyone will be wearing a mask - bonus points if it looks like your actual superhero mask. But don’t actually wear your superhero mask, that’s lazy and I’ll be mad.” The students exchanged dubious looks - they didn’t like Janet when she was angry. “Anyways, that’s all! Thank you, lovelies!”

As the crowd began to disperse, chattering excitedly to their friends about what they were going to do for the fundraiser or who they wanted to go to prom with, Peter stepped closer to Gamora, hands moving to settle on her waist. She shivered at the touch as he bent towards her ear, kissing the side of her head before whispering, “I have an idea. Follow my lead.”

“I would if I knew what your idea was,” she muttered back, though he ignored her in favour of walking around her so he was facing her front. Her eyes widened in alarm as he got down on one knee, arms spread wide.

“Gamora,” he said loudly, and what was that odd not-British accent he was doing? Out of the corner of her eye, she could already see other students forming a circle around them, whispering to each other as they watched their spectacle. Janet had flown over, phone in hand, eyes the size of saucers. Kamala was bouncing up and down nearby, tweeting with reckless abandon and trying not to squeal too loudly. “My incredible, beautiful, deadly, powerful, _deadly powerful_ \- ”

“Quill,” she huffed, though she tried and failed to hide her smile behind her hands.

“ - will you go to prom with me?” Peter finished, looking so wonderfully earnest she could feel her grin spreading even wider. It was as if he was really hoping she would say yes, but that there would be a chance she would say no, and really, why would she say no?

“I thought it was a given, considering you’re my boyfriend,” Gamora said, and _wow_ , she did not say that word out loud enough, it felt too foreign on her tongue, “but yes, of course I will.”

A cheer went through the crowd, firmly solidifying Peter’s somewhat arrogant belief that his relationship with Gamora had become a beloved part of the school’s social environment. As he got to his feet, his usual cocky grin on his face, he wondered how else he could possibly play up the moment. Gamora seemed to have the same idea, launching herself in his arms with surprising force, burying her face in his neck. “Smart,” she murmured, breath hot against his ear. “Our classmates will definitely know we have made up by now.” She pulled away, but not before taking both of his hands in hers, squeezing gently.

“And we continue to be the cutest couple in school,” Peter replied softly, smiling. “Let’s go get our tickets.”

“Wait! I have a confetti gun I want to use on you guys! Come back!”

“HA! Pay up, blue boy.”

“Ain’t never betting on nothin’ with you again, rat.”

* * *

Dinner that night on the Milano was a much more raucous affair than that of the previous three nights, now that Peter was back with his team. Everyone’s spirits were lifted, relieved that their leaders were once again back in a good place. Peter even offered to help Mantis and Drax cook (“You have burned _water_ , Quill, get out”), but instead was relegated to setting the table.

“Man, I missed you guys,” Peter sighed happily. “The whole ‘broody loner’ schtick really doesn’t work for me.”

“I don’t understand none of the crap that came outta your mouth just now,” Yondu said, slapping him on the back. “But we missed you too, boy. Twig got all weepy, it was awful.”

“I am Groot,” he protested, though he jumped up and down, arms outstretched, for Peter to scoop him up.

“I missed you the most,” Peter told him, resulting in a tiny wooden smile so cute that even Nebula, who was otherwise sulking in a corner, had to fight the urge to grin. “But hey, while I was away, I watched a couple movies with songs you might like. I’ll play ‘em for you sometime.” Groot nodded eagerly, patting his small hand against Peter’s cheek before jumping back down again onto the kitchen counter.

“You done cryin’ about your own problems yet?” Rocket entered the room, lugging what looked like a giant detonation device behind him. “Found this mysterious piece of crap dumped outside. Probably Stark’s. Has all the parts we need to get the Milano finally back up and runnin’. This your doing, Quill?”

“No, but he’s been sneaking stuff in for us, as far as I can tell,” Peter replied. “It’s a good thing, right? You don’t have to acknowledge he helped, and we can finally get my baby working again.”

“Your insistence on referring to the Milano as a child is disturbing.” Gamora had walked into the room and swatted Peter’s arm playfully in a surprising display of casual affection, a stoicism in her eyes that didn’t match the gentle smile on her face.

“Not _a_ child, _my_ child.”

“Do you people ever talk about anything of significance?” Nebula’s sigh was almost impressive as Director Fury’s. “Gamora and I have decided to kill the Black Order. We apparently require your assistance.”

“Oh, hell,” Yondu groaned, throwing himself down on the couch. “Can’t we focus on one thing at a time, girl? Got enough on our plate as it is.”

"Your failure to perform well at school has nothing to do with the rest of us,” Nebula shot back. “Try _harder_.”

“Nebula.” Gamora clicked her tongue at her sister disapprovingly. “Let’s not turn this into a fight for once, okay?”

“That’s hypocritical, considering you and Quill having a lover’s spat nearly made this whole team fall apart in a matter of days.”

“We had a misunderstanding, it’s _fine_ ,” Peter said defensively. “Mantis, Drax, is dinner ready yet?”

By the time everyone had finally sat down to eat, Peter was reminded of how exhausting it was to keep up with his ridiculous team of misfits, but damn if he wouldn’t trade them in for all the units in the world (alright, maybe Nebula, but she was slowly growing on him, too. She was important to Gamora, so by extension, she was important to him as well).

“I spoke with Janet earlier today,” Mantis said after a few thankfully silent minutes of everyone stuffing their faces. “She said she didn’t want to give away the current voting results, but that you and Gamora seem to be in second place at the moment.”

“Second? Who’s in front of us?” Peter exclaimed, food nearly spilling out of his mouth as he spoke.

“Captain America and Agent Carter, of course,” Mantis replied with a shrug. “Even students who do not care much about love voted for them because it is a love that spans decades.”

“Gamora and I have literally seen each other almost die, like, ten times each. Isn’t _that_ romantic?” Peter was flailing again, waving his fork around haphazardly. Gamora moved to gently push his hands down before he could knock over everyone’s cups in the process.

“The almost dying isn’t romantic, Quill, the ‘saving each other’s lives’ part? Maybe,” she said dryly, letting her hand linger for an extra moment before moving away.

“We could stage a - ”

“No, _no_ , boy, you are not riskin’ your hide just to win sympathy points from those fools,” Yondu said fiercely, slamming a fist down on the table, causing the dishes to rattle. “You’ve had some stupid ideas in your life, but that might be one of your worst yet.”

Sulking, Peter slumped back in his chair, throwing down his fork in defeat. “We gotta give it one last boost. Two weeks, and voting is over. It doesn’t even matter what we do afterwards, but something’s gotta be done _now_.”

“What happened to the other categories? You are all acting as if this is the only one that matters,” Nebula said with a smirk. “Have we all become so invested in this lie that we’ve forgotten about winning ‘Best Team’?”

“You technically are not part of the team,” Drax reminded her. “Frankly, I’m unsure if it will ever happen for you.” Nebula sneered in response. Gamora stomped on Drax’s foot from the other side of the table, shooting him a warning glare. He let out a howl of pain.

Mantis’s hands shot out to clasp at both Gamora and Drax’s wrists, quick to subdue them before it could escalate. “Actually, Janet says we will probably win that one,” she said, brightening. “The Avengers fight too much, the Defenders are scary to a lot of the newer students, and the other teams are not as prominent in popularity. Peter is especially recognizable to the general public. There are many girls who like to post on social media about him.” Peter could see Gamora’s nose wrinkle in disapproval, so he reached to gently pat her on the leg under the table, hoping no one else could see.

“Awesome, so that’s fifty thousand units in the bag. No, Drax, there’s no physical bag,” Peter interrupted himself as Drax opened his mouth. “And as much as I want to win Most Attractive Team...because that’s apparently a thing, the Avengers look like freaking models. And we have a raccoon.”

“I’M NOT A - ”

“I am Groot.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, that’s fair.”

“As always, I’ve gained nothing out of this.” Nebula stood to leave with her plate and cutlery, half of her food still left over. Her dramatic exit was ruined by getting stuck behind Drax’s chair on her way out. They all watched in awkward silence as Drax scraped his chair along the metal floor to allow Nebula to side-step with her back against the wall, an increasingly murderous scowl forming on her face.

“We should figure out a plan of attack against the Black Order or she might attempt to leave again,” Gamora muttered to Peter.

“You think we can wait until after the voting’s done?”

After dinner was over, Gamora went to go give Groot a bath (it was usually Drax’s chore, though he’d been protesting against it ever since Groot had been sick that one time and puked on him in the shower), Rocket disappeared to start taking apart the device Stark had “donated”, and Drax followed him to “help” (more like observe and criticize despite knowing nothing about engineering compared to Rocket), leaving Yondu and Peter to take care of the dishes.

“I think I finally figured Nebula out,” Peter said as he dumped a generous amount of dish soap into the sink. “She doesn’t make dramatic exits from dinner because she’s mad or irritated, she does it to get out of dish-washing duty.”

Yondu started opening all the cabinets in search for a clean washcloth. “And y’all say _I’m_ irresponsible.”

“You literally haven’t done homework in like, three months, man,” Peter pointed out. “You’re smarter than this, Yondu.”

“Don’t lecture me about smarts,” Yondu grumbled, finally locating one behind a stack of suspiciously foggy-looking shot glasses. “I know what I’m good for, and it ain’t school.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t try,” Peter said. He began scraping the food scraps off the plates into their composter. It seemed slightly clogged, but he couldn’t tell if it was because it was a terribly cheap machine or if Rocket had been messing with it for parts.

“I’m done talkin’ about this, but you know what I wanna know more ‘bout? You and Gamora,” Yondu said, straightening up with a smug grin. “What happened? Y’fought for like, five days straight. That’s a record for you two.”

“We both said stuff we regret, no need to share the details,” Peter mumbled. “She might’ve also made it pretty clear she doesn’t _actually_ want to date me, and I guess it just made me kinda sad, but, y’know, I’ll get over it.”

“You asked?” Yondu’s eyes widened. That seemed like an unlikely turn of events. Peter was overconfident at times - well, most of the time - and might’ve overdone it, whatever it was he had done, but Gamora didn’t seem like she would turn him down. She was starting to look just as gooey-eyed around Peter as he did around her. Not that Yondu was paying attention, of course.

“No, but she’s weirdly trying to set me up with girls I barely know,” Peter huffed, throwing the plates into the sink a little more aggressively than he needed to. “You don’t do that with a guy you want to date, therefore, she doesn’t wanna date me.”

“You do if you think it’ll make ‘em happy,” Yondu said, frowning. “If you love someone, you do _whatever_ it takes to make ‘em happy. Don’t you know _anything_ about love?”

“Come on, Yondu,” Peter sighed. “We grew up together. You know that ‘love’ wasn’t ever really a part of my relationships, if you could call ‘em that. Gamora’s...the closest I’ve ever had.”

“Now, now, Quill. You put on a big show, make them girls think you’re smooth,” Yondu said, pacing around Peter. _Oh no_ , Peter thought, _it’s Yondu’s Dramatic Speech Time™_. “You charm ‘em, kiss a fair bunch, sleep with a couple ‘cause you think it makes you happy. And it does, for a while. But then, you ditch the Ravagers, try to start over, fresh, at the Cosmic Conservatory, and you see a girl that spins you on your head.”

“The pacing really isn’t necessary,” Peter interrupted, but Yondu just continued as if he hadn’t heard him.

“It’s not just that she’s pretty - and she is - it’s that she’s clever, she’s resilient, she’s _strong_ , she’s unlike all the girls you been after your whole life. You flirt with her, but it don’t work ‘cause she’s smarter than that. You don’t wanna give up because she’s somehow different. But then this whole orb business, and Ronan, and you go back and forth, saving each other’s lives, and next thing y’know, you’re runnin’ a team together, living on a ship together, goin’ to school together. She’s _everywhere_ , and she’s almost _too_ important, so you play house instead.”

“Yondu - ”

“You’ve gotten too comfortable in pretendin’, boy,” Yondu said, brandishing a wet spoon at him. Peter winced as it made an incredibly disgusting squelching sound. “You gonna let a good thing like that slip away ‘cause you think she don’t feel the same? Here’s an idea - _ask her_.” He stood even taller, a satisfied look crossing his face. “I’ll only believe ya if she _actually_ says no.”

Peter blinked at him in disbelief. “Do you know how dramatic you look when you do that? No, don’t answer that, you definitely do.” He sighed, turning back to the sink so he could scrub at the last plate instead of looking at Yondu’s smug expression. “Look, I’ve only just sort of acknowledged that I have feelings for her, okay? And this isn’t the first time - for some stupid reason, I - you know what, I’m not telling you about that. But now, I know for sure, that I like her, a _lot_ , and I’m not ruining a good thing by telling her.”

Yondu snorted. “That’s what all those idiots in those films a’yours say. What’re you waitin’ for, boy, some big, life-changing moment?”

“No,” Peter snapped. “I’m waiting for proof that she feels the same. You think I _like_ getting hurt?”

“So all them girls you flirted with before, you knew it was a sure thing? Never thought you’d get turned down?” Yondu leaned against the counter. “I don’t believe that.”

“Getting turned down for a date or a casual hookup is one thing,” Peter said, setting the last dish down, staring at it intensely like it had personally offended him. “Being rejected when you tell someone how much you like them? When they’re one of the most important people in your life? A whole ‘nother ballgame.”

“So you’re sensitive,” Yondu shrugged. “Your strength _and_ your weakness, if y’ask me. Love, compassion, that’s your real power, ain’t it? You care so much about people you don’t even know. I’m just sayin’, a girl like Gamora, she’s a toughie, but she’s got some baggage. Insecurities, like everyone else. She might need you to spell it out for her before she shows her hand at all.”

He walked away with a knowing smile and wink, leaving Peter feeling thoroughly chastised. Yondu was only older than Peter by a year or two, so why did he feel like just got lectured by a father he didn’t have? He shivered a little at the thought of what his actual father had been like - a “complete and utter jackass”, to quote Yondu’s apt description of him. The way he’d tried to get between Peter and the other Guardians, the way he’d taunted him about his mother. Peter winced when he remembered how Ego had compared his relationship with Gamora to be like his own relationship with Meredith. _Never_ , Peter thought fiercely.

Left alone with his thoughts for a few minutes as he mindlessly rearranged the kitchen cupboards (who thought it was a good idea to put preserved eyeballs next to the jam? Why did they _have_ preserved eyeballs, and who was eating jam?), a voice pulled him back to reality. “What’re you doing?” Peter jumped, turning to see Gamora standing there, leaning against the wall, wearing one of his hoodies, her hair slightly damp at the ends. He raised an eyebrow. “Groot was fussy and splashed me, don’t look at me like that,” she chuckled. “Why are you moving everything around? Do you not have homework?”

“I do, which is why I’m doing this instead,” he lied smoothly, shutting the cupboard door. “You staying here tonight?”

“Are _you_?” She stepped closer, blinking up at him. “It’s the last Friday before I _finally_ get back to performing at Club Galaxy. I thought we could do something.” Peter was pretty sure his brain short-circuited when she bit her bottom lip, an impish grin forming on her face.

“You, uh, have something in mind?” Peter was very confused. He couldn’t be sure, considering he’d never seen her do it before, but was she _flirting_ with him? He’d been surprised enough yesterday when Gamora had ended up sleeping in his bed, but now her tone suggested she wanted a continuation. Before his brain could take him to a different line of thinking, he weakly suggested, “Another movie, maybe?”

Which is how he found himself, once again, in his (other) bed with Gamora pressed against his side, showing her -

“ _Dirty Dancing_?” she said. “You’re not even trying to pretend anymore, are you?”

"Why’re you wearing my jacket?” Peter blurted before he could stop himself. He wasn’t sure why the thought to ask had suddenly registered in his head, as if she hadn’t been wearing it for the past twenty minutes already. She looked so at home in his clothes that he could feel all those _feelings_ bubbling up again in his stomach, both something oddly warm and comforting, and something that was urging him to do something he’d regret.

“Janet is having some girls’ tea party - I don’t even know why - and I thought that showing up wearing what is clearly my boyfriend’s jacket would help,” Gamora said. She didn’t even look convinced of her own words - as valid as her point may be, it explained nothing about why she was wearing it now. Still, he decided not to comment as he mulled over what Yondu said. She was, despite her warrior’s exterior, still a young woman with sensitivities. He’d seen it in the discomfort on her face when he’d confronted her about what she said about him, how words could hurt her more than any weapon ever would. It wouldn’t do him any favours to point out the flaws in her logic.

He hummed, laying his head down on the pillow, wondering vaguely if she was planning on staying in his bed tonight as well. Probably not, considering her room was just next door, but it was a nice thought. Unlike Gamora, Peter had shared a bed with people before. Not always for sexual reasons, but with his mom when he’d had a nightmare, or even with Yondu when the Eclector was particularly overcrowded (Yondu didn’t like to talk about it). There was something about waking up to see her next to him that made him feel safe. And maybe, for a moment, he could pretend it was a result of something real. He stole a glance at her, watching as her dark eyes fixated on the screen, taking in Baby and Johnny’s dance practice. “Maybe we should do the lift at prom,” Peter said, half-jokingly.

“I hope you’re not expecting _that_ ,” Gamora said, pointing as Jennifer Grey crawled across the floor. He momentarily got distracted by the mental image that her idea had provided him.

“That would be really difficult to do in a prom dress,” he chuckled. “Hey, so do you _really_ want to go to prom?”

“It would be odd if we didn’t,” she replied.

“That’s not what I’m asking,” Peter said softly. “Not for the con. For _you_.”

“I like experiencing the things I missed out on,” Gamora said thoughtfully, finally turning back to look at him. “I guess it makes me feel like I've become a part of something meaningful, even if it is just a school dance.”

“Then I'm glad to be a part of it,” he declared. “Now, after this movie is over, you have to tell me whether you've had the time of your life…”

* * *

The weekend passed by with little issue, all things considered. After the turmoil the team had gone through in the past month, they were grateful for the mundane, monotonous crawl of a lazy weekend. Peter was still a little rattled by Yondu’s speech, but he knew it came from a place of caring, as much as Yondu would deny it.

Peter and Rocket even managed to fix the Milano and finally get her up and running once more. True to his word, Peter started off by doing his repairs in a T-shirt, stripped down to a muscle tank, and eventually decided to go shirtless for the last couple hours in the height of the afternoon sun, sweat dripping down his forehead. He was pretty sure there was some irony in being cat-called by Tigra and Black Cat as they passed by the loading bay.

“Is this display necessary?” Gamora sighed when she had dropped by after spending most of her day with Janet and the other girls. “It’s not _that_ hot.” He noticed she was still wearing his hoodie, now fully unzipped over her usual “uniform” of a blank tank top and leather leggings. It was a good look on her.

“You might be used to wearing all-leather outfits in the peak of summer, but I’m not,” Peter replied with a smirk. “I thought you’d enjoy the view, _honey_.”

“Yes, I don’t know why you’re complaining, Gamora, unless you want to keep him _all_ to yourself,” Felicia purred. “You could cut diamonds on his stomach. I should try that sometime.”

“Don’t talk about him like that, his ego is already the size of his ship,” Gamora said, frowning, though she moved closer so she could kiss him. If her hands lingered on Peter’s bare torso for a little while longer than they needed to, well, that was her business.

Sunday was when the Guardians caught up on homework, albeit separately. Yondu also took the opportunity to chase the others down and chastise them about slacking. “ _You_ are telling _us_ not to slack?” Nebula said, eyes narrowed. “That is a first.”

“Not on homework, girl. Your sister and Quill,” Yondu said, causing her to groan.

“Still on about that, are we? You seem oddly invested,” Rocket commented slyly. “What’s going on there, Yondu?”

“You really wanna know?” Yondu snapped.

“Yeah, actually, I do.” Rocket stood to his full height (three feet tall, so hardly intimidating, but to his credit, he had one of his signature BFGs by his side). “I wanna know why you care so d’ast much.”

“Then I’ll tell you.” Yondu settled into the armchair, glancing around to make sure Peter and Gamora were nowhere nearby before starting. “I might not’ve been captain yet, but when I was a kid Ravager, we had a job to go pick up some skinny kid off Terra. Weren’t allowed to ask questions about why or what we were doin’ with him. I watched ‘em big boys haul in that snot-nosed kid, who wouldn’t stop cryin’ about his mama. I was one of the only kids on the Eclector, so they told me to shut him up by any means possible. I didn’t wanna hit him or nothing, he was probably 60 pounds soaking wet. So, I asked him if he knew why he was here, what happened to his mama. Next thing I know, kid’s rattlin’ off about his music, all the shit he’s got in his backpack that she bought him, stuff like that.”

Mantis leaned forward, eyes wide, enraptured. “And then what happened?”

“One of the men - not the cap’n, just one of them commanders - came in and yelled at me for makin’ it worse. I say, ‘kid’s scared, he thinks we’re gonna sell him into slavery. We ain’t doing that, are we?’. The guy decks me across the face - _me_ , also just a kid.” Yondu sighed slowly. “Then Quill, ‘cause he’s a dumbass, starts hittin’ the guy - who’s prob’ly 300 pounds on an off day - kickin’ him in the shins, hollerin’, saying ‘leave my friend alone, he ain’t done nothing’. We been talking for an hour tops, and he already thinks we’re friends.”

“That sounds very much like Quill,” Drax said, smiling fondly. “A man of good intention and terrible execution.”

“The guy don’t leave ‘til Quill’s got another black eye and a couple bruised ribs, but he’s smilin’ like he won a million units, ‘cause he’s decided that I’m stuck with him,” Yondu continued. “All cheery-like, tells me his face hurts, like I can’t tell. Won’t shut up about nothing ever since. And we get older, we start talkin’ about girls we like. Go out on jobs, see pretty girls, we flirt with ‘em, it can’t hurt. And I’ll admit, Quill’s more successful ‘cause he’s got that something special, y’know, but then he ditches the Ravagers for the Cosmic Conservatory. When I finally see him again, he’s talking about some girl with a sword who kicked his ass. And yeah, he mentions how pretty she is, but it’s everythin’ else that makes me realize there’s more to her than that. In some ways, feels like the way he used to talk about his mama - with _love_ , with respect. He got it _bad_.”

“You really trying to say Quill’s had a crush on her since the beginning?” Rocket said, skeptical. “I mean, yeah, _now_ he’s pretty obvious about it, but what about before when we were fighting Ronan? He was all business once we got down to it.”

“Gotta have your priorities straight, boy,” Yondu said, wagging a finger at him. “No time for nookie-nookie when there’s a maniac on the loose. Anyways, I been listening to Quill yammer on about nothin’ for years, and all a’sudden, he’s reluctant to talk. Something’s changed - it’s for _real_ this time. For the first time, he’s nervous about _losing._ So we gotta help him out, push ‘em both in the right direction.”

The group fell silent for a moment, considering. “I have been helping,” Mantis piped up. “They are both too stubborn to admit it, but I can tell they both want it to be real.”

“Admittedly, I’ve not really done my part,” Drax murmured, head bowed as if he were ashamed. “But neither of them listen to me as much as you or Yondu.”

“I am Groot?” He blinked up at them slowly, hopeful.  Rocket nodded approvingly.

“That’s actually not a bad idea, Groot,” he said. “Groot thinks he can use the ‘child’ angle to his advantage. Y’know, bring out the parenting instincts.”

“That’s good, twig,” Yondu said, smiling. “So, we all clear now? Get ‘em together so Quill can get back to normal. This weird, evasive crap? Ain’t like him.”

“If it will get you to shut up about it already,” Nebula muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy ridiculous OTT team dynamics are everything. Hope y'all found this chapter to be a breather after the ridiculousness of the last one. Next chapter's a fun one - the team finally take on a new job now that the Milano's up and running, which may or may not make our lovely "couple" question whether they're doing this for the money anymore.
> 
> Also, [Black Cat](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black_Cat_\(comics\)) and [Tigra](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tigra) for those of you who don't know who was hitting on Peter in that end bit there. And as always, I can't say thank you enough for the comments and kudos!! Warms my heart every time :')


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Guardians finally get some work, Peter and Gamora question what their whole fake relationship is even about, and Gamora kicks some serious ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter started out at 5000 words. I'm not sure what happened?? Also, spoilers for _Vol. 2_ if you haven’t seen it yet. ALSO also, warning for violence against baby trees ;_; I'm so sorry, Groot.

Unfortunately for the Guardians, the weekend wasn’t completely peaceful like they’d hoped. Director Fury sent them a message quite late on Sunday night as they were getting ready to go to bed (Groot had already been tucked in a couple hours ago), informing them to pack their bags and get ready for takeoff in the morning - they’d been _requested_. It wasn’t entirely unusual, as they were, after all, heroes for hire more often than not, but it was the source of the job that confused them, and frankly, concerned them as well.

“A member of the _Sovereign_ ,” Peter read in disbelief.

“A defector from the Sovereign,” Gamora corrected him, leaning over his shoulder to look at the long block of text on Peter’s tablet, her chest pressed against his back. “One of the Priestesses has had enough of Ayesha, apparently. Needs an escort to Xandar, where she will be placed under the Nova Corps’ protection.”

“I’d feel better about this if Ayesha didn’t already hate us,” Peter said, sighing. “Alright, Guardians. We ready?”

“We are still being left behind, aren’t we,” Nebula said, her mouth twisting in displeasure. “Wonderful. I will not miss any of you.”

“Don’t think they need that many for this job, anyways,” Yondu shrugged. He leaned against the doorframe casually, smirking. “Y’all remember what I told you now.”

“What’re you talking about?” Peter began rummaging through his knapsack, distracted.

“Nothing you need to know about, boy, don’t you worry.” Yondu winked at Drax, who looked half-confused, half-offended.

“Yondu, can you please be useful for once and help Rocket and Drax with the ammo?” Gamora ordered. He nodded with one last quirk of his mouth before leaving with the others. “Quill, are we prepared for this? You only _just_ fixed the Milano.”

“We’re gonna have to be,” Peter said, moving closer to sling an arm across her shoulders. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay. We’re all together this time. It’ll be...fun?” She smiled despite herself. “See, you’re totally down for this. We’ll be back before the week is up.”

“PETER!” Mantis came barrelling back into the room, tablet in hand. “The director sent in another message, did you not see? Look at the amount of money that the priestess is willing to pay.”

“It can’t be that - holy shit.” Peter was pretty sure he felt his eyes pop out of his head for a moment. “Yeah, okay, we’re definitely taking this job.”

* * *

 At 8 AM sharp, as the other students were getting ready for their first class of the day, the Guardians were taking off in their newly-repaired ship, which, to be honest, was very likely going to get destroyed again, in one way or another. Their course was set for Berhert, strangely enough, where the priestess in question, Brionne, was hiding. Gamora was more than a little uneasy about returning again, considering how her last two trips to Berhert had been a little too eventful. She also found herself questioning the amount of money they were going to make on this job - enough to pay for everything they’d been complaining about for the past few months, along with enough left over to easily live a comfortable life for the next _year_. It made the money prizes from the yearbook contest look like spare change.

Once the Milano had been cruising on autopilot for a few minutes, steady as she would ever be, Peter got out of his pilot’s seat, satisfied. He turned to leave the cockpit, only to see Gamora still in her navigator’s seat, tensely clutching at her armrests as if they were in turbulence, staring off into the distance. “You alright? Still thinking about the Sovereign coming after us?”

“The money, actually,” she admitted. She stood decisively, gesturing for him to follow. They took the ladder down to the common area and moved towards the table, staring at the job briefing documentation laid out before them. “If we finish this job, we will be able to cover far beyond all of the expenses we’ve been waiting on for _months_. And then what?”

Peter watched her for a moment, the clench in her jaw, the squint of her eyes, processing her words. “You’re thinking about the yearbook thing,” he guessed.

"Now isn’t the time to be thinking about it, but, yes. We won’t need to worry about the contest money if we’re successful, and we very likely will be.”

“Well, I’m not aiming to fail,” Peter said jokingly. Then, he realized the other angle she was aiming at, one that he was sort of dreading. “You’re thinking of giving up the gig when we get back?”

A brief glimpse of alarm flashed over Gamora’s face, though he wasn’t sure if he was seeing things. “Another ten thousand units wouldn’t hurt,” she said a little too quickly. “Plus, our classmates would wonder what happened, and if we told them what was _really_ going on…”

“Right, they’d be mad, probably ostracize us, and never trust us again. So obviously we should just keep it going. And the more money, the better,” Peter nodded. He felt half-relieved, half-anxious at Gamora wanting to continue. Part of him wanted it to be over, relieve him of the emotional turmoil he’d been experiencing ever since their New York trip. Another part of him worried that once it _was_ over, she might not spend as much time with him. For all of her no-nonsense nature, Gamora was one of those girls that the others at the Academy wanted to be like. They looked up to her power, her control, her attitude and her discipline. What was she doing, hanging around Peter, when she could be with the other “cool”, like-minded people on campus (yes, that was Peter admitting he was kind of known for being a dork)? And worse, what if she stuck around too long, and found out how he truly felt about her?

He watched as Gamora left to join Drax in the kitchen, where he was preparing breakfast. As he did, he felt trapped between a rock and a hard place, neither feeling lesser than the other. Sometimes, all he ever wanted to do was be with her, whether that meant working on strategies for the team and fighting side by side, or falling asleep together and finding ways to make her smile. It was odd how separate it used to feel - like Gamora had two different personalities that never fell into step - but now he could see how it came together, how her strength and her vulnerability, her warmth and her stoicism, could exist in one person. But that’s what it was, wasn’t it - every moment he spent with her, learning about her, getting to know her more and more, was only going to deepen his affections, and make it irreversibly impossible to handle if she ever did walk away.

He could hear Yondu all over again, that scratchy voice of his in his head, chastising him, insisting for Peter to just _try_. _Try_ and tell Gamora he had an enormous crush on her? Peter scoffed at the very notion. He’d been rejected by girls before, girls who thought they were too good for him, girls who thought he was too unruly, girls who didn’t trust him (and, fair enough, he’d been wearing his Ravager flames with pride whenever that had happened). All of those times had stung, but he could walk away relatively unscathed, forget the whole affair within the week. But now? Gamora was firmly rooted in every aspect of his life, a constancy he usually welcomed with open arms, but now left him kind of weak in the knees. Everything she said and did seemed to make his heart beat a little faster, his stomach feel a little warmer with contentment, his...okay, he wasn’t going to go into detail about that one. He felt sort of guilty about what he’d done to solve _that_ little problem.

Honestly, how could he not fall deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole whenever she was around? He couldn’t decide whether his favourite sound was her warrior’s cry or her surprisingly adorable laugh. He didn’t know if he preferred the feeling of her hand in his or her breath against his neck. He was equally fond of the way she’d whisper secrets into his ear and the way she’d yell at him for being reckless. As far as Peter could tell, Gamora was above and beyond anything he could have ever imagined, so unlike the dream girls of his childhood and teenagedom, and, judging from her recent behaviour, completely uninterested.

“I am Groot?” Groot had tottered up to Peter while he had been lost in his own thoughts, holding out a daisy he had sprouted mere minutes ago. He had an adorably earnest look on his face, as if he were worried that Peter was going to reject his gift.

“Thanks, Groot,” he smiled, taking it and tucking it behind his ear. “Hey, so while we’re not doing anything right now, wanna listen to some of that new music I mentioned?” Groot let out a squeaky cheer and nodded eagerly. “Alright, buddy, let’s go.”

* * *

They landed on Berhert a few hours later, only a couple hundred feet away from the safehouse. Peter shrugged on his longcoat and activated his mask, spinning his quad blasters in idle confidence as he strolled off the ship. “Be careful, team,” he said, his voice authoritative. “Nova Corps sent a couple guards to keep an eye on her, but that might not be enough if the Sovereign find out that she’s here.”

“So there is a chance she is already dead. Good to know,” Drax nodded. Still, his daggers were at the ready.

“Not a good attitude to start with, dude,” Peter sighed. He paused to activate his helmet’s HUD, using its thermal vision to check for nearby heat signatures, any sort of indication of people - associates, adversaries, or otherwise - nearby. The Guardians shuffled closer to the entrance of the warehouse where Priestess Brionne was being kept, crouching in a thicket of tall grass that could easily obscure beings as tall as Drax. After a couple quiet minutes of observation, Peter found that he couldn’t locate any living thing nearby, including the Nova Corps officers, who were supposed to be stationed outside the door. “That’s weird. Where are they?”

“Dead, most likely,” Rocket said, though his voice trembled slightly, betraying his usual cocky attitude. “You getting anything on the priestess?”

“Walls must be lined with something, I’m not picking up any signals.” Peter let out an impatient breath, reaching to switch off the thermal vision. “Alright. We go in on the defense - there could just be some miscommunication, and maybe they’re just inside with her, instead of out here. Worst case, the officers _and_ the priestess are dead, and the perpetrators are still inside. If that’s the case, take ‘em down - aim to stun, not kill. We gotta know who they work for and why they did this. If the fight gets to be too much, Gamora, I want you to make the call for us to bail, and we meet back at the Milano.”

Gamora reached for her sword, and - _clink!_ \- she was ready to go. “Understood. Move out.”

They dispersed one at a time, keeping their heads low, bodies tucked down into the grass, as they sprinted as quietly as they could, plastering themselves against the walls of the warehouse. Groot was sitting on Mantis’s shoulder, looking slightly apprehensive. The two of them had been instructed previously to not engage in the fight, since Mantis was still working on her weaponry skills, and, well, Groot was too small and impulsive to help in unpredictable circumstances. Still, he wanted to help _somehow_ , debating whether he wanted to hitch a ride on Gamora instead, and go inside with them.

With a nod from Gamora, Drax kicked in the enormous doors, sending them flying a good fifty feet inside, clattering loudly. The sounds of their weapons charging up echoed in near-perfect synchronicity, bouncing off the metal walls of the warehouse. However, one glance inside, and it was clear something had gone wrong.

The warehouse, as large as it was, lacked any sort of inventory or storage units of any kind. Every little noise echoed with vibrancy, having no other surface to bounce off of. It was absolutely filthy, sewage water oozing along the large cracks in the concrete floor, occasionally passing over suspicious stains. The walls were eroded with rust, worn away in several spots, allowing tiny peeks of sun to stream in. It smelled like what the Milano bathroom would smell like if Peter hadn’t insisted on Drax having a regular bathing schedule.

In the very middle of the warehouse, Priestess Brionne. She was a vulnerable young woman without her typical Sovereign headpiece and garb, instead with her golden hair cascading in unsightly tangles down to her elbows, wearing what looked like a ripped tunic that was three sizes too large for her slight frame. She was knelt on the ground in a pool of blood, trembling, arms wrapped around herself as if she were freezing. Her eyes were fixated on the two mutilated bodies of the Nova Corps officers in front of her.

Her head snapped upwards the moment the Guardians stepped closer. “G-Guardians?” she squeaked, and Peter’s heart broke a little at the sound. She sounded so young, so vulnerable, that it reminded him of Mantis. He shot a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure his sister was still outside. She didn’t need to witness this. “Is that y-you?”

“Yes, Priestess Brionne. We’re here to help you. What happened?” Peter motioned for the others to lower their weapons. There was no need to frighten the poor girl any further. “The killers, are they still here?”

“It happened so fast,” she whispered, stumbling to her feet. Drax immediately moved forward to steady her, taking her delicate hands in his large ones, giving her a short nod of understanding. “A very odd-looking person...never seen anyone like that before. Dark armour...and he was so large. All he had to do was...pummel...those poor officers...to death.” She let out little gasps of air, attempting to catch her breath as she spoke. Peter hoped they could get her outside soon, so Mantis could help with what appeared to be the beginnings of a panic attack.

Gamora felt a chill go up her spine at the description. “Did he have large, pointy teeth? A horned forehead?”

Brionne looked at her curiously, a sort of desperation in her bright yellow eyes. “Yes.”

Gamora shivered, turning away to look over at Peter, who appeared confused at this exchange. “It is Cull Obsidian - one of the Black Order,” she said, fearful. “Thanos may be here.”

“What would Thanos want with a Sovereign priestess? No offense, goldie,” Rocket added, though Brionne was barely paying attention, staring off into the distance, unseeing.

“It’s not about her, it’s about _me_ ,” Gamora said, slowly stepping back. “I shouldn’t have come.”

“Gamora, hey.” Peter reached for her, but didn’t touch. “You can’t think like that, okay? Brionne’s in shock, she might be misremembering things. Plus, even if it is that Cull guy, it doesn’t mean Thanos is here. And it’s not like he doesn’t know where you’re living right now, anyways.”

“I will fight Thanos if he does arrive,” Drax added in an attempt to be helpful. Brionne trembled a little harder in his arms.

Gamora shook herself. “Okay. Let’s return to the Milano before the killer comes back. There is nothing we can do for these officers but finish the job.”

Once they were back on the Milano, Peter and Rocket immediately got them back into the air, taking off from Berhert with no desire to look back. Mantis took Brionne to the bathroom so she could get cleaned up and properly dressed. Once their course was set for Xandar, Peter made his way to the common area, finally feeling as if he were able to breathe.

“You don’t find it suspicious that the attacker didn’t do anything to Brionne?” He jumped at the sound of Gamora’s voice. She was seated at the table, textbooks stacked neatly at her elbow. She wasn’t even looking at him, just staring listlessly at the tablet in front of her. “Something about this mission doesn’t feel right.”

“You say that every time, and I’d tell you not to worry, but considering you were right about my dad, I’m gonna go with your instincts,” Peter sighed, settling down across from her. “Where did Fury even get the transmission from? Was it Brionne herself?”

She turned the tablet towards him to reveal she was looking at the very message he spoke of. “Sent from the Sovereign planet, but no personal log-in or digital address that can be traced. It’s probably so Ayesha won’t immediately be able to tell who betrayed her, but why would Brionne do it from Sovereign, and not from later on, when she’s escaped? She made a big assumption that she would be able to get away in the first place. And how _did_ she get away?”

“We can ask her after she’s gotten some rest. No use in asking her when she’s this traumatized,” Peter suggested. He reached across the table to pat Gamora’s hand in reassurance. “You wanna do some homework while we wait?”

Gamora stared. “Did I hear you correctly? I swear you just suggested we occupy ourselves with _school_.”

He shrugged, nonchalant. “How else do you wanna pass the time? I don’t exactly want to continue 20 Questions when everyone else is around.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Do you have something particularly private to ask me?”

"They’ve kinda all been private. Didn’t really think you’d want anyone else overhearing.”

They both jumped at the sound of a cackle. “Gross, you two makin’ out in here?” Rocket had entered the room in search of food, a cocky grin back in place after his subdued manner from earlier. “Let me grab a snack, at least, before the clothes start comin’ off.”

“I - that’s not - what the hell, man,” Peter spluttered. Rocket simply snickered in response, finding a sleeve of crackers, and apparently a spare pack of batteries, before leaving again. Peter turned back to look at Gamora, sheepish. “I swear, it’s like the others forget we’re not _actually_ dating sometimes.”

“What do you mean?” Gamora reached for one of her books, pulling it in front of her and flipping to a random page rather hastily.

“Dunno, just...stuff that everyone’s been saying. Forget it, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

She was quiet for a moment, watching Peter’s face. He looked almost embarrassed to have spoken at all, shifty-eyed, mouth turned downwards. “Drax and Mantis have mentioned something of the sort to me as well,” she said gently. “And they did pick you and me for this con for a reason. Plus, we have become quite close since then.”

“We have, haven’t we?” He grinned at the thought, tilting his chin back upwards so his eyes could meet hers, soft. “Everything before that, it was mostly...training, jobs, school. I like this a lot better. Getting to know you, spend time with you.”

“I like this better too,” she replied. “I’m happier here, having friends. I...do worry about what my presence at the academy means for the other students, for the team. How much I’m risking everyone else by being here. But as you always say...we’ll work together.” With that, she grabbed another one of her books, flipped it open, and turned it towards Peter. He groaned. Right, homework. He was kind of already regretting making the suggestion.

* * *

Berhert to Xandar was a two-day trip, meaning they had to shuffle their sleeping arrangements so Brionne could have a bed. No one had a particularly good mattress, but Mantis kept her room quite spotless in comparison to the mess everyone else had grown accustomed to. Mantis moved into Nebula’s room, something they had agreed to never tell Nebula about. As always, everyone stayed out of Yondu’s room, not wanting to know what was making that strange squeaking noise in there. Peter suspected one of Yondu’s trinkets might have been a little more lively than they had counted on.

“If you two are romantically involved, then why do you not share a bed?” Brionne had asked curiously, gesturing at Peter and Gamora. They exchanged confused looks - how did she know?

“We’re already pretty co-dependent, running a team together and all, so it’s good for us to have our own space,” Peter had lied in return.

“Quill also has a loose definition of the word ‘tidy’,” Gamora had added with a sly chuckle.

At dinner, Peter had prompted Brionne to tell them about herself, leading them to discover how she differed from the Sovereign they had encountered previously. She was barely sixteen years old, and had been chosen as a priestess at a young age because of her strong resemblance to Ayesha. However, that also made the High Priestess dislike her in many ways - some of the other Sovereign thought Brionne was more beautiful, more genetically perfect, than their leader. Ayesha would set her out to do the most impossible tasks in retaliation, or on the other end of the spectrum, the most mundane, whatever suited her mood. Brionne grew to resent her, her own position as a priestess, and what her people stood for. She especially hated that Ayesha wanted the Infinity Gauntlet to recreate the world in her image. So, Brionne had fled with a bounty hunter who had been trying to steal their anulax batteries (“That _is_ what they’re called, Drax”). The hunter had dropped her off on Berhert and never returned, despite promising to find her refuge on a more advanced planet.

Regardless of her suspicions, Gamora decided to give Brionne the benefit of the doubt. She seemed harmless enough, and after all, she wouldn’t be able to do anything to them on the Milano without putting herself at risk as well. It would do no good to interrogate her any further, at least, until they got to Xandar. Nova Prime would be better equipped to handle her.

Despite being different from her people, Brionne still had a bit of the high-and-mighty attitude that was likely impossible to shake, given her upbringing. She turned up her nose at Drax’s cooking until she realized there was no other food to choose from, and shrieked at the sight of a rat that had somehow wormed its way in between the couch cushions. Otherwise, she was nothing like Ayesha.

Peter spent most of his evening trying to entertain Brionne, allowing her to flip through his textbooks with wide eyes. Apparently, the schooling on Sovereign was something of “alternative history”, whatever would make them look good, and had covered very little of the outside world. “Terra,” she said slowly, a word quite foreign to her ears. “And this is where you all live?”

“Yeah,” Peter said, smiling encouragingly. “It’s not the most advanced place, I’ll admit, but it’s home.”

“How interesting,” Brionne said. “It looks quite diverse. I would like to live on a planet like that. I do not like being like everyone else.”

“Then you’d fit right in,” he chuckled. “Maybe after this is all over, you can visit.”

“That would be wonderful,” she sighed. “It’s dreadfully boring on Sovereign, Mister Quill. You wouldn’t believe it. Day in, day out, blindingly ‘perfect’. Why should I care about being ‘perfect’? I would like to be clever, or funny, or good.”

“You can be all of those things, Brionne,” Peter replied. “Your own kind of perfect.”

“I like the sound of that very much,” she grinned, and it reminded Peter of what Mantis had been like when she first joined the team. Sweet, gentle, hopeful. After everything poor Brionne had gone through, after everything _Mantis_ had gone through, they still wanted to be good. Brionne stood, stretching. “I should go to bed, but thank you for taking my mind off things. It’s been a very trying time for me.”

“That’s what we’re here for,” he said, reaching to gently pat her arm. “Just let me know if you need anything else, we’ll do our best.”

Brionne beamed, a sort of luminescence emanating from her that had nothing to do with her golden skin. “You are a good man, Peter Quill.” She paused. “And admittedly, very easy on the eyes. Miss Gamora should keep watch on you, should I choose to pursue you, _romantically_ , in the future. She would not be able to beat the allure of a Sovereign.”

Peter could only stare at her in disbelief before shaking himself and returning to his own room, ready to sleep off the long day. However, there appeared to be a mysterious lump in his bed. He would have assumed it was Mantis, who had muttered to him earlier about Nebula’s room being kind of scary, if not for the red hair strewn across his pillow. “Uh, Gamora?”

She peeked out from underneath the duvet. “I wanted to talk some more. I can’t stop thinking about Cull Obsidian.”

“Interesting name,” he commented, crawling in next to her. She turned over so they were face-to-face, so close that her breath tickled his nose. “Black Order, I guess.”

“They are otherworldly. I sometimes question my moniker as the ‘deadliest woman in the galaxy’ when Proxima Midnight is around,” she said, leaving him to mouth the name incredulously. “I’m...worried.”

He watched her face, the tension in her brow, the clench of her jaw. “Question,” he said softly. “What scares you?”

The weight of the question told her it was part of their game, something they had started so long ago and still were yet to finish. In a way, she wanted it to go on forever. She wasn’t sure how curious Peter would be about her after it ended. “The thought of being the last one standing among us,” Gamora murmured. It was a recurring nightmare of hers - standing in the middle of the Academy’s quad, seeing nothing but a sea of bodies, and laying at her feet, her Guardians. Nothing in her line of vision told her what had killed them, whether it had been Thanos, or worse, whether it had been _her_. “Do you...do you have nightmares?”

Peter nodded, swallowing. “I have this recurring one, ever since Ego. It’s where my mom beat cancer, and we got to be together again, back at the house. There’s always this one ‘scene’, where I’m doing homework in the kitchen, and Mom’s making dinner. She’s got the radio on, she’s singing along, I’m dancing in my seat. Ego walks in, and with one swipe of his hand, crushes her immediately, reduces her to the dust the way that I did to him. Tells me he came to finish the job, grabs me by the neck, and drags me onto his ship.” She let out a soft noise of sympathy. “If it goes on any longer than that, he brings me back to his planet, threatens me by showing me the bones of the other kids. Mantis is still his servant, but she’s just this...this tiny little girl, no older than five, helping him sleep. And she doesn’t talk, she just stands by his side, like when we first met her. Doesn’t move a muscle when Ego uses the light on me for the first time.” He shuddered a little. It wasn’t something he liked to relive. Gamora shuffled a little closer so she could rest a comforting hand on his arm. “Have you ever shared a bed with anyone before?”

“Depends on what you consider a bed,” she said thoughtfully. “Before, on Sanctuary, we slept on the ground in small groups. But as for something as...intimate, as this, no.” She burrowed herself further into the pillow, her cheek obscured by its mass, her lashes fluttering against its surface. Peter’s heart sped up a little faster. “Do you really believe we can defeat Thanos?”

“Really going with the hard hitters today,” Peter joked. “Honestly, no, I don’t. But I also didn’t think we could beat Ronan, or Ego, or Ayesha. Every single time, it felt inevitable that we were gonna die, and yet, it all worked out. So, maybe Thanos is where our luck runs out. But I wanna think positively in the meantime.”

She looked satisfied at this, the worry in her face slowly melting away. “And we’ll do it together.”

* * *

Peter woke to the sound of Brionne’s screams and the feeling of Gamora’s hair in his mouth, neither of which were too pleasant. He barely had time to register what was happening before Gamora was dragging him towards the direction of the yelling. They found Brionne jumping up and down in the kitchen in complete hysterics, pointing at the holo-screen.

“It is him!” she exclaimed, jabbing a finger at the screen so violently it was as if she were trying to knock over the entire display. “The bounty hunter who helped me!”

She was watching a galaxy-wide news channel, where a Krylorian reporter was currently talking over footage of what appeared to be a siege on an abandoned dwarf planet not far from Xandar. There were grainy images of a person, covered up entirely in large, loose robes with just a tiny slit for their eyes, leading the charge.

“Please, can we go and get him? He must be rewarded for helping me escape Sovereign,” Brionne pleaded.

“More likely to get arrested for that nonsense he’s stirrin’ up,” Rocket pointed out. “We ain’t stopping, _Priestess_.”

“But you must listen to me, mustn’t you?” There was an immediate switch in her demeanor, the girl drawing to her full height. “You have no power over _me_ , Guardians. I could choose to cut your pay, or remove it entirely, if you do not obey.”

“Alright, let’s not get hasty, lady,” Rocket said, holding up his paws defensively. “Quill?”

At a loss for words at the sudden change of events, Peter looked over at Gamora. She was always better with this sort of thing, the decisions that could lead to kill or be killed. Her mouth twisted slowly, consideringly, before she set her jaw in determination. “We will comply with your request, Priestess Brionne. But do not be naive - that man will not be celebrated for helping you when we take him with us to Xandar, and trust me? We will. We would not be the Guardians of the Galaxy if we turned ourselves the other way from a criminal like him. A man of his crimes, his insistence upon violence, civil unrest, and the death of innocents, does not deserve pardon or even penance. It will be punishment of the highest order. So. Are you _really_ sure you want us to pursue him?”

Peter cracked a grin at Gamora’s threat. She always knew what she was doing, and it certainly sounded better when it was directed at someone other than him. He had worried that his mistreatment of her had shaken her down, but it seemed she was back in true form. Brionne cowered, though she still looked as if she wasn’t going to change her mind. If anything, backing down would cause her to lose face, and Sovereign defector or not, her pride still remained. “Let us go to him. Please,” she said, with much less conviction than before.

* * *

Mere minutes after landing on the dwarf planet in the early evening, only a few hundred feet away from where the hunter had been spotted last, they were attacked by a pack of what they assumed to be his associates. Peter barely had his helmet activated and his guns up before Gamora had run forward with a loud shout, sword steady at her side.

Mantis grabbed Brionne and Groot and ran for cover, while Peter, Drax, and Rocket sprinted to help. However, it took Gamora all of thirty seconds to mow down the fifteen assailants with barely a fuss, slashing her way through the crowd with ease. To finish, she leaped incredibly high to bring down her blade over the last person’s head, slicing clean through, landing neatly on her feet. With a feral snarl, she yanked the Godslayer out, whipping it above her head as if it were a trophy, showering herself in alien blood. _Damn_ , Peter thought.

Brionne looked disturbed as she emerged from her hiding place, watching as Gamora casually wiped the blood off her face with her bare forearm, smearing what looked like thick cerulean sludge everywhere. Mantis awkwardly stepped forward to offer her a baby wipe. “You sure your _bounty hunter_ actually wants you here?” Gamora said, looking smugly at the priestess. “That ambush tells me otherwise.” She accepted the wipe, though only to clean her face. Apparently, she’d barely noticed the rest of her was soaked as well.

“He may not know I’m here with you,” Brionne said, glancing nervously around them. There was a crumbling building about a hundred feet away that they hadn’t noticed before, likely the base where their attackers had come from. “Let me approach them and make my presence known.”

Peter instinctively stepped forward as if to stop her, though found himself hesitating. “Be careful,” he said softly. “You don’t know what you’ll find in there.” She nodded, biting her lip in worry, before turning and walking away, head held high. “Man, she’s just a kid.”

“A kid with a fat wallet, so shut it and let her do what she wants,” Rocket snapped, folding his arms across his chest.

“If she dies on our watch…” Gamora trailed off, unsure of what she was going to say. She stepped closer to Peter in lieu of continuing her train of thought. He turned towards her, staring at her questioningly, before taking another wipe from Mantis. He gently began to run it over Gamora’s hair, easing out the blood that had already started to congeal in her tresses. Sighing, Gamora grabbed another wipe and began running it over her neck and collarbones. At least it was something to do while they waited.

“Should we have given her a weapon?” Peter murmured as the others moved to sit on the ground, unsure of how long they would be waiting.

“It would have made her too brave. We don’t know her level of competency,” Gamora replied. Peter took one of her hands in his, holding it up to brace it against his chest. He hoped she couldn’t feel the drumming of his heart as he wiped her arm clean. “Quill, if this goes wrong…”

“We’ve had jobs go wrong before."

“But as you said, she’s just a kid,” she protested. “Maybe we shouldn’t have let her go at all. This can only end in a fight.”

“I would not mind engaging in a fight, considering you decided to selfishly handle the last one by yourself,” Drax interjected. Despite sitting cross-legged on the ground, he still had his daggers tightly clenched in his fists, ready to go. Gamora only rolled her eyes in response, while Peter chuckled under his breath.

As they waited, their idle chatter faded away to tense silence, staring at the building as if they were willing it to speak to them, tell them what it was hiding. Groot eventually crawled up Gamora’s side and settled onto her shoulder, eager to get a better view of the action. Several uncomfortably long minutes passed before Peter found himself getting impatient - and worried - and activated his helmet, ready to approach. “Gamora, with me.”

They moved towards the deteriorating structure, guns and blades at the ready. Despite being much closer, it was still eerily quiet, as if Brionne and everyone else inside had vanished in thin air. Slowly, but surely, they crept inside on high-alert, dreading what could possibly lie ahead for them. Everything about the building - the sights, the smells, the sounds - made the safehouse on Berhert look like a five-star hotel. Gamora found herself wishing she had left Groot with Mantis, but before she could suggest to Peter that they turn back, they were startled by what could only be described as a cackle.

“Guardians!” Brionne’s voice trilled above them in the foyer, strong, confident, so unlike the timid little girl she had sounded like before. Their heads shot up to see her standing at the top of the landing, accompanied by the bounty hunter. He was still fully covered and therefore impossible to identify, but Peter was more concerned by the giant rocket launcher he had on his shoulder, aimed at their faces. “Shame the others didn’t join you, but I suppose taking care of _you_ will be a good start. It will make for a very tragic love story, won’t it? The Earthman and the deadliest woman in the galaxy, who started off as adversaries and found hope in each other. Oh, and they made such good friends, had such amazing adventures, fighting side by side on the battlefield. Until one day, they were bested by the Sovereign at last. The lovers were doomed to fall together, as they have always been fated to do since the very beginning. You even have your little child here to die with you.”

“BRIONNE! What have you done?!” Peter shouted, aiming one blaster at her and the other at the hunter, motioning for Gamora to get behind him. She swiftly moved to tuck Groot inside the breast pocket of her jacket, obscuring him from view. She slowly began stepping backwards, eyes fixated on the rocket launcher.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Brionne giggled rather obnoxiously. “Oh, and Ayesha says hello.”

Gamora managed to wrap her arms around Peter’s waist, yanking him around to cover him as much as possible before the rocket launcher could hit. The weapon burst with an earth-shattering _boom_ , striking her in the back with all of its brute force, crushing them to the ground as it felt like the world exploded around them. Brionne’s mocking laughter echoed through the rubble as the building began to disintegrate before their very eyes. All Peter could hear before being knocked out by a large piece of rebar, however, was the sound of Groot’s pitiful wail and Gamora’s anguished shriek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops yikes etc. I'm sorry!! I promise this is the last time these two are in danger, we're getting close(r) to the end. After all, they have to make it back for prom, right?
> 
> Thanks for the comments and kudos, lovelies!!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Gamora do their best to survive, they somehow continue to understand and misunderstand each other perfectly, and Groot just wants his "parents" to love each other already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for slightly descriptive, canon-typical injuries mentioned throughout (including blood, broken bones, and in the case of poor Groot, a missing arm). Also, I've never experienced broken bones myself, so Peter's pain tolerance may not be all that accurate.

Peter woke to a surge of pain rippling through his entire body, threatening to burn and swallow him up from the inside. Unlike when he’d woken up in the medbay after the Sovereign air battle, slightly sore but nonetheless already on the road to recovery, all he could feel was bone-deep agony, his every nerve singing in misery.

He slowly lifted his arm, shoulder crying out in protest, so he could wipe the thick layer of ash that had settled over his face. When he finally opened his eyes, all he could see was darkness, but as he shifted around to search for a source of light, underneath his other arm, he could sense a body.

“G’mora,” he breathed, a chill running up his spine.

To his relief, she turned over with a grunt mere seconds later, clutching at her side. He grimaced at the amount of blood splattered all over her front. This time, it definitely wasn’t someone else’s. “You’re awake,” she said weakly, giving him a half-hearted grimace. “Woke up about an hour ago...managed to clear some of the rubble, but I didn’t want to do too much while you were still out, in case it collapsed inwards.” She used her other arm to lift up her jacket to reveal a bleary-eyed Groot, shivering against her chest. “Groot lost one of his arms from the elbow down.”

Peter’s blood ran cold at the sight of poor Groot, who was grabbing listlessly at the empty space where his forearm should have been, letting out sad little whimpers. It was one thing to see him lose appendages as an adult, but this? This made his stomach turn. They were responsible for Groot, by far the most vulnerable of them all. How could he have been so stupid as to let this happen? “I don’t think I can help at the moment,” he grunted. “Gimme a minute.”

He turned away from them as best he could, the anguish in Groot’s large dark eyes too much for him to handle. To distract himself, Peter began glancing around, assessing the situation more thoroughly. Something bad must have happened to the others - if they were exactly where they had been before the blast, they would have tried to rescue Peter, Gamora, and Groot by now. They could have been taken by Brionne and the hunter, or worse, dead. Large chunks of the decaying building had crumbled apart into incredibly heavy slabs around them, along with the occasional broken window that had left sprays of glass everywhere, near impossible to identify. There was the tiniest crack above them that let in a small stream of light, but Peter, whose eyes had finally adjusted to the dark, could barely see anything beyond the vague outline of his companions. Gamora was tucked into his side, her arm held at an awkward angle, blood smeared all over her torn clothes in a way that made it difficult to tell where she was actually wounded. Groot had blood all over him as well from being inside Gamora’s jacket, but he looked too shaken to even register it was there.

There was a large gash in Peter’s calf, though Gamora appeared to have tied it off with a piece of his T-shirt. It was bloody, but didn’t seem to be actively bleeding anymore. From Peter’s unfortunate previous experience, he could tell that he had broken at least a couple ribs, and there was an incredibly irritable road rash going all the way up Peter’s torso. By some miracle, he didn’t appear to have broken anything else, though once he lifted his hand to his face, he could feel several cuts and bruises forming along his cheeks and forehead.

Finally, he turned back to look at Gamora, who was taking slow, steady breaths. Her enhanced respiratory system was probably working just fine, he reasoned, but she was probably feeling more than a little bit claustrophobic. “Where are you hurt?” he asked, moving to push her hair away from her face. It was matted to her forehead with blood, thanks to a sizable cut above her brow bone. As expected, the silver metal in her face seemed the most resilient, untouched for the most part, while her skin appeared to be in the process of healing. “Is anything broken?”

“Somehow, no,” she said. “I think my ribs and spine probably were, but they’ve put themselves back together. I have sprained wrists and my ankles and shoulders are a little sore, but my body mods have done wonders for anything else that would’ve happened to me.” Without warning, she reached over to push his shirt all the way up so she could feel along his torso, careful to avoid spots that were particularly raw. “Four broken ribs, but your organs all seem to be fine, and that’s what’s important. If we get out of here right now, I don’t think either of us will experience anything worse.”

“Okay.” Peter exhaled slowly, the ache in his chest and head settling into a dull roar. “Okay, let’s get moving.”

Almost three hours passed before they managed to move everything just enough to clear a path out of the rubble without disturbing anything else. For the most part, it had been Gamora’s doing, her physical strength far surpassing Peter’s. It was moments like this that Peter found himself weirdly wishing he still had his Celestial powers, even though the implications of still having them made him shiver. When they finally crawled out, it was pitch black outside, the sun having gone down about an hour ago, but it was clear to both of them that the others were nowhere to be found.

Peter could only manage to stand for a minute before his calf wound flared up again, and he collapsed to the ground, breathing heavily. “I’m okay, just give me a second,” he said when Gamora immediately moved to sit next to him, reaching for his leg. “What’re the chances the Milano’s still here? Basically none, right?”

“Only one way to find out.” She slipped her arm around his waist and gently hoisted Peter to his feet, keeping him steady as they walked in silence towards where the Milano had been parked, the operative word being “had”.

“Shit,” Peter groaned, flopping back down onto the dirt. “Can’t I just go to one planet where somebody doesn’t try to kill me?” After a few more laborious breaths, he found his voice again. “So. What do you think happened back there?”

Gamora sat next to him, wincing slightly in pain. She set Groot down on her lap, allowing him to suck on her thumb in an effort to keep himself distracted from the pain of his missing arm. “Brionne was never defecting from the Sovereign. Ayesha likely hand-picked her to play victim, hired a group of bounty hunters to help her out, and intended for us all to be killed right here, where no one could find us.”

“I sent out a signal back to the Academy when we landed, like I always did,” Peter protested. Then he paused. “Right, but they would’ve taken the Milano, probably landed on Xandar and sent out another call-sign to complete the illusion. Damn.”

“And Cull Obsidian, I should’ve never described him in detail,” Gamora groaned, dropping her head against Peter’s shoulder. “I should have let _her_ tell us what the assailant looked like. She probably had no idea who I was referring to and just played along. All she said was that he was large with dark armour. That could be anybody. He was never here, it was probably the bounty hunter who killed the Nova officers.”

“We - _I_ \- shouldn’t have taken this job.” Peter stared down at his hands. Raw palms, bloody knuckles, plus more than a few broken fingernails from working away at the rubble. “Should’ve known it was too good to be true. I really need to be smarter than this.”

“This wasn’t your fault,” Gamora said firmly. “You’ve made some questionable decisions, but this wasn’t one of them.”

“Brionne hung out of with me last night, acted all cute and innocent so I wouldn’t suspect a thing. She even flirted with me!” he exclaimed.

Gamora huffed in annoyance. “ _That’s_ what you’re thinking about right now? We need a plan that ends with us getting back to Terra. It might be easier if we just...forget about looking for others, and focus on getting off this damn planet.”

“What if they’re still here? We can’t just leave them behind!”

“Quill,” she said, softening. “There’s a good chance they’re dead.” She moved Groot onto Peter’s lap before getting to her feet, settling her hands on her hips. “I don’t want to think about it, either, but we’re more useful to them off this planet and back in shape with resources at hand, than remaining here and slowly dying of thirst and exhaustion while trying to find them. If they are alive, they probably aren’t even here anymore.”

“And what happened to ‘being the last one standing’?” Peter demanded. It was hard to look intimidating when he was sitting cross-legged, while she was towering over him. “We can’t just give up before we start.”

“It’s not _giving up_ , it’s survival!” she yelled. “It’s not abandonment, it’s self-preservation. We need to get to Xandar, get medical attention and a proper ship, and find our friends.”

Peter fell silent. Though he hated to admit it, she was right - they would be useless to their friends if they died attempting to find them. Still, he felt sick to his stomach trying to picture what had happened to them - to _Mantis_. His sister could be _dead_ right now because he had been too greedy, jumping at the chance to make half a million units. Drax and Rocket were strong enough, and could probably withstand whatever torture came their way, but she wasn’t used to this. She had grown up isolated, but relatively unharmed. Every single job she’d been on usually involved a quick round of combat and some even quicker thinking, but never a personal vendetta that could lead to a fate worse than death.

“We’ll find some sort of signal station or military base. There’s gotta be something or someone here that can help us get off this planet. But right now, it’s dark, and there’s no point in moving. So we have no choice but to camp out here until it’s morning, okay?”

Gamora nodded, the fight leaving her body. “Okay.”

Peter got a fire going while Gamora found some non-poisonous plant leaves to use as bandages. Unfortunately, there were no food sources nearby, and judging by the planet’s unusually-coloured flora, they didn’t really want to eat anything grown here regardless. Groot woke soon after Gamora returned, promptly beginning to weep in terror.

“Hey, Groot, it’s okay, you’re here with me and Gamora, you’re gonna be okay.” Peter lifted Groot up to his face so he could see. “It’s me, Peter, see? I don’t have my music on me right now, but I can sing to you if that’ll help.”

“I am Groot,” he croaked in response, sniffling but no longer crying. Gamora approached him slowly, holding out a short, thick tree branch.

“Groot,” she said gently. “I found something we can use for your arm until it grows back. Do you want it?” With his nod of consent, Peter took the branch from Gamora and held it against Groot’s arm stump, while Gamora expertly weaved some tiny blades of grass so she could bind them together. “There you go.”

“I am Groot.” He smiled for the first time, reaching up to affectionately snuggle his face against hers.

“I just realized neither of us understand him well enough yet,” Peter murmured. “All the stuff he could be saying, or asking for, and we’d have no clue.”

“We’ve been able to glean his meaning before. It’ll be okay,” Gamora said, squeezing his arm. She took Groot back and passed Peter the bundle of leaves she had collected. “Do you know how to weave these together? We should make a proper wrap for your leg in particular before it gets infected.”

They worked together in silence for an hour, with Peter fashioning all of the leaves into bandages, while Gamora weaved together some more grass to hold everything in place over their various injuries. Gamora hesitated for a moment when Peter reached for her, before finally moving to take off her jacket and her shirt so he could wrap the giant gash in her side. He ended up having to do the same, trying his best not to react to her fingers grazing his bare skin.

Afterwards, Peter folded their shirts into makeshift pillows, and laid out their longcoats (thank goodness both he and Gamora had an akin preference for them over short jackets) to be used as mats. Neither of them spoke about it, but it was a given that they were once again lying side by side. Despite the fire, Gamora still instinctively tucked herself right against his body for extra warmth. Groot was braced between their chests, moving his makeshift arm curiously, staring at the foreign object with rapt fascination. He seemed to have calmed considerably, though Peter still couldn’t help but worry that there could be more wrong with him, and they would never know.

It took a few minutes for Peter to realize Gamora was calling his name. “Peter,” she whispered, and he could feel his heart flutter in response. _Not now_ , he told himself sternly. _Now is not the time_.

“You called me Peter,” he said, flabbergasted.

“Well, you weren’t paying attention, I had to try something that didn’t involve hitting you,” she said with a weak laugh. “I was asking if you were feeling okay, but considering you drifted off, I take it to mean you aren’t. You definitely have a concussion, but are you feeling dizzy in any way? Seeing spots or other hallucinations?”

“My head’s fine,” he replied, sullen. “I was just thinking about Groot. Maybe we should stop taking him on missions until he’s bigger. He’s basically a kid, why are we even bringing him in the first place?”

“No one really understands him except Rocket,” Gamora said. “And we’re learning how to understand him. If we leave him behind, no one will be able to take care of him.” She moved to cradle Groot’s head with her hand as he drifted off into sleep again. He let out a little coo at the touch, eyes sliding shut.

They fell silent again for a time, eyes fixated on Groot as his breathing slowed to a steady rhythm, the only sound being the crackle of the fire at Peter’s back. “Question,” he whispered. “Why do you still call me by my last name? You never do that to Yondu, or Janet, or Natasha, or basically anyone else but me.”

“Out of habit, more than anything,” she replied. “I didn’t realize it bothered you.”

“It doesn’t bother me, it’s just that you only do it with _me_ ,” he protested. “When we first joined the academy, you said ‘Romanoff’, but then about a month in, after you guys were friends, you switched to ‘Natasha’. Same goes with everyone else.”

“I’ve called you Peter twice,” she said softly. “When you held the Infinity Stone, and when your ship exploded near Ego’s core. Both times, I...thought you were about to die.”

“To be fair, I heard neither of those,” he said, feeling somewhat chastised at being corrected. “I was in the middle of almost dying.” She chuckled softly.

“Do you _want_ me to call you Peter?”

He paused to mull it over. She wasn’t exactly being straightforward about her reasoning - clearly there was more to it, the way she had so quickly switched to being on a first-name basis with other people while still calling him “Quill” - but if it was something she didn’t want to answer, he wasn’t going to force her. Peter just hoped she couldn’t hear the amount of affection in his voice when he said _her_ name, the reverence it held on his tongue, as if it were something precious.

“I guess it doesn’t matter.”

She studied his expression, searching for something he was unsure of, before she decided to take her turn. “I never returned this question to you, but I’m curious - if you could change anything about me, what would it be?”

Peter found himself stunned into silence once more. She’d been getting pretty good at shutting him up lately, though maybe not in ways she had expected. Two months ago, he would’ve said he wanted her to be more emotionally open so he could read her intentions better. Gamora wore her tenacity like armour, her strength as a mask, and used her sharp tongue like another weapon in her arsenal. Her moments of levity had been far and few in between, amongst her biting remarks and cool demeanor. Now, it was commonplace for her to smile, to say something witty in that dry tone of hers that made him laugh, to spend time with him on her own terms. It wasn’t that her personality evolution revolved around Peter but rather, it was most evident when he was near. Of course, with him being so attached to her, both platonically and romantically, he was now at a loss for what he _would_ change.

“I can’t think of anything,” he admitted. “I mean, sometimes you get really annoyed with me and yell a lot, but usually, it’s kinda justified?”

“So even you’re admitting to being irritating,” she countered, though a grin threatened to emerge from the corners of her mouth. “Really, _this_ is the question you can’t answer?”

“You’re not flattered?” Peter grinned despite it making the cut on his forehead flare up once again. “Before, you know, _this_ , I would’ve said I wished you were more relaxed, at least around the Guardians. But I think you’re pretty comfortable around people now, especially me.”

“I am, aren’t I,” Gamora mused. Her dark gaze had traveled downwards from his face to somewhere around his collarbones. Part of her was wondering if she could come up with some reason to check on his bandages. She’d never been so physically close while he was shirtless before, to the point where she could see every muscle, the broadness of his shoulders, the thickness of his waist. Peter was still tan from the past weekend he’d spent fixing the Milano, his arms slightly darker than his torso, freckles splattered across his shoulders and his nose. She was pretty sure if she looked at his back, there would be a light dusting of them there as well. Gamora was starting to feel uncomfortably warm, not in her belly, which she had gotten used to after identifying it as some sort of reaction to his more endearing qualities, but even further down her body, urging her to _touch_. She needed to stop looking before anything else happened in response. Her eyes flickered upwards, sheepish.

He cleared his throat. He wasn’t sure what had kept her distracted just now, but it didn’t feel right to pry. “Alright then, let’s switch it up. If you could change anything about _yourself_ , what would it be?”

“I would like to be as indestructible as people perceive me to be,” she said, after giving it some thought. To distract herself, she had let her hand rest on the hilt of the Godslayer, tapping out a short rhythm to prevent her fingers from wandering elsewhere. “I can always be stronger, more powerful. I want to avoid being deceived by people like Brionne, or knocked out by buildings, or have a piece of glass in my leg slow me down."

“You seriously think you need to be indestructible? I mean, it sounds cool at first, but then you’re always gonna think there’s something better. And at the same time, it makes you scared of your _own_ power.” She frowned in confusion, unsure of what he was referring to, until she realized - the _light_. She never did ask him what it had done to him, physically and mentally, to have such absolute power for a minuscule amount of time. “I mean, I never doubted you. I think you’re pretty powerful already.” Then he chuckled to himself. “D’you remember when we first met? Back at the Cosmic Conservatory?”

“I was completing a physical exam,” Gamora said. “Then I heard laughter. At first I thought it was something to do with me, until I turned around and saw others were pointing at _you_.”

“Might’ve almost run into a door,” he said, shamefaced, heat rising in his cheeks. “When you grow up with the Ravagers, cool as they were to an impressionable kid like me, I never really spent time around women. We ran into some fighters every now and then when we were thievin’, but it wasn’t until I saw you that day that I saw how freaking badass women could be. Different kind of badass than the way my mom was, anyways,” he added.

Gamora nodded thoughtfully. “Yondu did tell me the Ravagers weren’t always the most... _kind_ about women. So, I really did leave an impression on you, huh?”

“If by impression, you mean bruises,” he teased, trying not to laugh too hard in worry of his injuries flaring up again.

She smiled in return, reaching out to gently brush her fingers along his hairline, where the bruising on his forehead had started to turn purple. It wasn’t the most critical of his injuries, not by a long shot, but she still couldn’t help but twinge in sympathy at how it reminded her of how vulnerable Peter was compared to her. Even Groot, despite having lost his forearm and experienced emotional trauma, would be able to recover in no time. Peter was going to have to get stitches, probably sit out missions and training for the next couple months, undergo physiotherapy, if - _when_ \- they returned home. “Speaking of your mother...I know you mentioned that nightmare about her yesterday, but...if you could have her back, with no consequences, would you want that?”

He exhaled rather abruptly, as if that question had knocked the wind out of him (his injuries had certainly done a good job of it). “If there’s one thing I learned from being a Guardian, from _you_ , it’s that there’s always gonna be consequences. Don’t get me wrong, I’d do... _anything_ , to see her again, but if she were alive, what would that mean for her life? She’d probably be super happy to see what I’ve done for myself, but then she’d either be in danger from being too close to me, or we wouldn’t get to live out the rest of our lives together if she goes back to Missouri. I don’t want to risk her, and I don’t want her life to become anchored to mine. My mom lived her life for herself, not for me.”

“As mature as that sounds, it seems as if you’ve underestimated how important you were to her,” she said. Her hand moved down to his cheek, tracing out a pattern with the pad of her finger, as tenderly as she possibly could. “You were her little Star-Lord.”

Another feeling of warmth spread through Peter’s chest, and it wasn’t from the wickedly painful road rash all over his front. There was a sincerity in Gamora’s eyes that had become so commonplace now, a respect in the way she said his outlaw name that had never been there before. The way she cradled his face in her hands, her body curled into him, it was nothing like he would have ever expected from her, someone so fight-savvy and yet so touch-averse.

Her hands slipped away from his head, balling up her fists against his chest, her head coming to settle against his good shoulder. Carefully, he slung an arm over her waist, hand resting on the small of her back, so they were fully pressed together. They exchanged brave smiles before finally letting sleep take over, the fire slowly fading out.

* * *

They woke up early in an attempt to be as efficient as possible, taking turns to clean and re-wrap each other’s injuries, checking to make sure that Groot was doing better than he had been yesterday, and setting a course for any sort of signal station. However, that last bit was easier said than done. As small as the dwarf planet was, perhaps even smaller than Ego, it still had an abundance of vegetation that made Berhert look sparse, which obscured the view of the skyline, the horizon, and anything that could indicate direction.

They trekked slowly all day, heading what they believed to be north despite not knowing what north even meant for them. Gamora was doing well enough, the cuts in her face having fully healed and her wrists knitted back together, but Peter’s leg and torso especially were betraying him at times, forcing them to stop every hour so he could sit for five minutes or so. Groot, having considerably cheered up since yesterday, babbled at Peter and danced around on his lap to keep him distracted from the searing pain in his, well, everywhere.

Their one and only highlight of the day was when they found a clearing with a waterfall, clear and bright as any on Terra. Once Gamora inspected it closely, she deemed it drinkable, and began collecting some while Peter laid down to rest. “I am Groot,” Groot said happily as he settled down next to Peter on the soft bed of grass.

“You need something, buddy?” Peter moved to cup Groot’s back with his hand so he wouldn’t fall. “You must be hungry.”

“I am Groot.” He pointed vigorously at Peter, then Gamora. “I am Groot?”

“What about Gamora?” Peter frowned. “Is something wrong with her?”

Groot shook his head, his little wooden brows knotting in frustration at not being understood. Again, he pointed at Peter once, then formed what looked to be a circle with his fingers, then pointed at her. “I...am...Groot.”

“Man, I wish my translator worked for you,” Peter groaned, using his free hand to rub at his forehead. “I’m sorry, dude, I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”

Groot leaped away, and for a second, Peter was worried he had upset him, until he returned with a twig and began drawing with it in a patch of dirt by Peter’s head. Stick figure. Stick figure with long hair. And then, above their heads, a heart. _Oh_ , Peter thought, his heart sinking. “I am Groot!” he said triumphantly.

“It’s just pretend, Groot,” Peter mumbled, rolling onto his back. “All for some stupid units.” Groot crawled up onto his chest, settling down so he could fix him with such a knowing look that it felt as if he were staring through Peter’s soul, or at the very least, reading his mind. _You sure about that?_ Huh, maybe he was getting better at understanding Groot. “Don’t tell her this, okay, but...I want it to be real. She’s the most amazing girl I’ve ever met. She’s my best friend, and I just...I care about her _so_ much. And...I want her to be happy. The fact that she considers me her best friend too is a damn miracle, but she doesn’t like me that way. She’s talked about ‘breaking up’ and dating other people a lot, and I think she wants to get out of this already, but she’s just being too nice about the whole thing to say it outright. And it hurts, but I’ll be okay. I’ve got other things to think about, too. Like the pain in my entire body. And making sure that _you’re_ okay.”

Groot seemed dissatisfied with this, throwing the twig on the ground with a surprising amount of defiance. “I am Groot!” he hollered, stomping his foot against Peter’s chest.

Peter shook his head sadly, turning back onto his side so he could wipe away the drawing before Gamora returned. “You and the others seem to like the idea, but it’s just not gonna happen, okay? So let’s focus on getting off this planet, and back to our friends.”

It became dark before they knew it, the evening creeping up on them without warning. Gamora theorized that the days on this particular planet were much shorter, leaving them less time to keep moving than they thought. So, they set up another little camp next to the waterfall, drinking hungrily and taking turns to bathe and properly wash their wounds. Peter was reluctant to keep moving when they had such a good water source by their side, but he knew that he and Groot were getting incredibly hungry, and there was no food in sight.

Groot, in his single-minded, determined, childlike mentality, yanked the two of them closer together as they slept, still braced in between their chests despite not needing the comfort anymore. He smiled to himself as their foreheads came to rest again each other, their arms draped over each other’s sides. Still, Groot curled up underneath Gamora’s chin and wondered what else he could possibly do in a situation like theirs.

Another day and a half passed before they found what looked to be a tiny, abandoned fuel station in the middle of nowhere. If it wasn’t for their jungle surroundings, Peter would have thought they were on some random Terran interstate. The pre-packaged foods inside were several years old and alien in nature, but with a quick taste test from Gamora, she deemed them edible. “I’m starting to feel like we went from being characters in a space opera to characters in a post-apocalyptic thriller,” Peter commented as he sniffed at some odd, purple-ish paste. “That reminds me, we should watch _Star Wars_ if we get back to Earth.”

“Not _if_ , Quill, _when_ ,” Gamora insisted.

The fuel station had no working electricity or technology anywhere, its communication lines frayed long ago, though they did find old maps that helped them piece together where they were. They spent the night on the linoleum floor of the station, charting out the rest of their trip, concluding it would take another two days before they reached what looked to be the only military base on the entire planet. Exhausted and somewhat exhilarated at finally having a plan, they fell asleep before they could continue their game of 20 Questions, Peter draping his jacket over the both of them. Gamora knew things had gotten weird when she was strangely comforted by the familiar scent of both his cologne and his sweat as she drifted off to sleep, her face buried in his chest.

Before leaving the station, they found some half-disintegrating cloth bags in the storage room and loaded them with food and water, deciding it was better than nothing. Groot sat on Gamora’s shoulder backward, so he could keep an eye on the bags that were tied onto her back. It also gave him the opportunity to watch Peter closely, who had become more sluggish as their journey continued, though he was trying to be strong for his companions. Although Groot hadn’t retained any of the memories of his adult self, and had the typical attention span of a three-year old Terran child, it didn’t take memories or brains for him to be certain of three things - the Guardians were stronger together than they were apart, their school was kind of ridiculous and insane but they wouldn’t have it any other way, and Peter and Gamora _clearly_ liked each other, but lived too deeply in their own heads to see it.

It was at times like this that Groot desperately wished to be understood so he could help. He wanted to communicate to Gamora that Peter liked her, but unfortunately, Peter never left her side. On what they hoped to be their penultimate night on the planet, where they were staying in a remote area that Peter had deemed “weird and creepyweird”, he kept watch while Gamora slept, despite her insistence that nothing was going to happen. For the most part, Peter kept an eye on their surroundings and hummed softly to himself to prevent boredom, but sometimes, Groot would catch Peter looking down at Gamora, snuggled under his chin, and he would make _that_ face. It was the face that the others had taken to calling Peter’s “Gamora face”, when his eyes crinkled at the corners, his mouth curving into the softest of smiles, a fondness so blatantly obvious that Groot couldn’t understand how Gamora didn’t see it immediately.

Then, the reverse happened when Gamora kept watch while Peter slept, in spite of her telling him they would be safe, and could sleep at the same time. As she had been for the past few nights, she stayed pressed up against him, claiming it was for warmth, her body rising and falling alongside Peter’s with every deep breath he took. Groot, who was snuggled in between her cheek and her shoulder, gently prodded her to get her attention, then recreated the drawing he had made for Peter.

“Don’t,” Gamora whispered almost fiercely, as if it hurt to say it. “Groot, it’s...it’s not going to happen. There are so many other girls that are better suited for him. I’ll just...be content with being his best friend. That’s all I can ask for.”

Groot was pretty sure if he had hair, he would be ripping it out in frustration. How was it that they were _so bad_ at this? It was a hard life for a tree who couldn’t talk (to them, anyways). At least his arm was already starting to grow back.

The second day went by rather uneventfully, though Gamora was beginning to grow concerned about Peter’s lack of his usual motor mouth, opting for nonverbal communication instead. She insisted on checking his throat and chest for signs of infection, then his forehead for fever. “I’m just...really tired, G’mora,” he sighed. “I miss having a bed. And food I can identify. And not being in pain, _everywhere_. And I keep thinking about what could’ve happened to our friends...to Mantis.”

“Okay,” Gamora replied. She slowed to a stop, sliding her hand under his arm and hoisting him up so she could support Peter’s weight. His limp was getting worse, and the burning sensation throughout his entire torso certainly wasn’t helping his mobility, either. “Then if you don’t want to talk, that’s okay. Let’s just get going.”

They didn’t reach the base until late evening, a mere ten minutes before the sun began to set. Peter felt like crawling at this point, the ache in his entire body feeling too familiar at this point, like an old friend. Gamora could only watch him struggle for a moment before deciding to pick him up and throw him over her shoulder, carrying him along the last stretch up the winding dirt path. “Whoa,” Peter exclaimed, hands flailing before resting on her waist so he could steady himself.

“I’m not letting you strand us here, Quill,” Gamora said, her tone more playful than intended. Once they arrived at the front gate, she set him down and immediately began banging against the metal, causing it to rattle. “Is someone there? We require assistance!”

To their surprise, a Xandarian guard popped into view, looking utterly confused at the sight of random people in the middle of nowhere. “State your name and your business here,” the guard said, holding up her shock rifle.

“Star-Lord - uh, Peter Quill,” he said, taking a laborious breath. He glanced over to Gamora, pleading.

“I’m Gamora,” she continued, patting Peter gently on the back. “This one on my shoulder is Groot. We’re from the Guardians of the Galaxy, and our home base is on Terra. We were here on a mission, got ambushed, and our ship was stolen. We also believe the rest of our teammates have been taken. We trekked across the planet to find you. Please, contact Nova Prime for us and tell her we’re here.”

The guard’s eyes widened in recognition, and wordlessly opened the gate, ushering them inside. She put them up into a dingy, but acceptable holding cell with two single beds and no windows, promising to return after contacting the Nova Corps. Peter took the opportunity to have a short nap, but Gamora remained awake, sitting on the floor at his bedside, his breath rustling against her hair. She stared off into nothing, her eyes glazing over as she fixated on the chipped tile and the rotating ceiling fan that was slightly tipped off its axis, causing it to wobble and clatter noisily. Groot sat on her knees, his arm now fully back to normal, his eyes fully alert. “I am Groot,” he whispered.

“We’ll be back soon,” Gamora said, though she wasn’t sure what he had actually said. “Are you doing okay?”

Groot nodded, moving to sprawl across her chest. He laid his head against her cheek, nuzzling her affectionately. “I am Groot,” he said happily. Gamora smiled, lifting a hand to gently stroke the back of his head.

Peter jolted awake when the guard returned, informing them that Nova Prime was sending a med-ship to treat them and transport them to Xandar. “She also says your friends are safe and with her, and they will tell you more when you arrive.”

“Oh, thank god,” Peter groaned. It felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, the guilt he’d accumulated over the past few days fading away. “This nightmare is over. Thank you so much.”

“Of course.” The guard nodded sharply, though her militant stance was ruined by a bashful grin. “Anything for the Guardians.”

* * *

Predictably, once they boarded the med-ship, Peter started talking at his usual pace once again, recounting their struggles to all the nurses. At first, Gamora found herself wondering if it was because of one Krylorian with pretty eyes (Peter seemed quite particular to them), but then he started gushing about “what a badass survivor my girlfriend was” and how she had to, quote unquote “drag his ass” across the planet to safety. From then on, she felt a little more relaxed, albeit a little guilty. She really had to stop being suspicious of every girl Peter encountered.

Neither of them expected to see the other Guardians at the landing bay when they arrived on Xandar, resulting in a surprisingly emotional reunion. Groot wept as he snuggled into Rocket’s fur, tearily rambling on about something that no one else but Rocket could understand. Drax and Mantis enveloped Peter into a giant hug, with Mantis leaving a rather ugly trail of snot in Peter’s hair, not that it bothered him much. Gamora hung back, feeling slightly left out, until Drax scooped her up as well (literally - he had picked her up by the knees and thrown her over his shoulder). “How good it is to see you, Gamora!” he roared joyously. “We feared the worst, but we should have known you would be able to survive, even with Quill’s incompetence!” Mantis continued to cry and blubber ineloquently, squeezing Gamora’s hands a little too tightly.

When the dramatics of the entire affair was over, a Nova Corps officer escorted them into the briefing room, where Nova Prime was waiting, a regal but genuinely warm smile on her face as always. “I’m so glad to see you three are alright,” she said kindly, clasping their hands in hers. “It would have been a great loss.”

“Thank you again for your help, Nova Prime,” Peter replied. “At least it wasn’t us needing to save the galaxy again. It was just me getting us stranded like idiots.”

She chuckled. “Now, now, don’t put yourself down, Mister Quill, it could have happened to anyone. I’ll let your friends explain what happened, but in the meantime, I’ll dispatch a message to the Academy so your Director knows you’re all okay.”

After Mantis managed to calm herself down, she told them what had happened - upon seeing the building crumble and watching Brionne and the hunter escape, they immediately knew they had been set up. The group pursued them, with Rocket promptly stunning them both, dragging them back onto the Milano, and taking off for Xandar, thinking they would be able to return for Peter, Gamora, and Groot with a ship equipped to move the wreckage. Unfortunately, after touching down on Xandar and releasing Brionne and the hunter into the Nova Corp’s custody, there had been yet another firefight with the Sovereign, looking to recover their spy. By the time they had managed to end the fight and return, Peter, Gamora, and Groot were long gone.

“We had no choice but to come back to Xandar and wait,” Mantis sighed. “Nova Prime suggested we get tracking implants with unique frequencies in case this happens again.”

"Discussion for another time,” Peter said, waving a hand. Before she could think about it, Gamora ran a hand over his back in reassurance, resting her chin on his shoulder. Mantis and Drax exchanged shocked looks, while Rocket rolled his eyes so hard he was pretty sure he pulled something. _Honestly_. “You guys made the right choice. But y’know, I don’t think we’re ever gonna take another job with the Sovereign again.” The group dissolved into laughter. “One stupid question though - did someone tell Brionne that Gamora and I were dating, or…?”

Gamora withdrew her hand. “You’re _still_ thinking about that?” she said in disbelief.

Nova Prime returned, a twinkle in her eye. “Word travels fast across the galaxy. That Janet girl, her website is a good source for us to keep an eye on the Academy’s cosmic recruits, especially _you_ , Guardians. And congratulations, Mister Quill, Miss Gamora. I personally always thought you two would make a good match.”

The entire group gaped as she walked back to her computer console. “Okay, that was weird,” Peter said, brow furrowing. “Uh, Guardians, you ready to go home?”

Gamora slid her hand against his, tangling their fingers together and squeezing. “Let’s do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nova Prime ships it, guys.
> 
> Once again, next chapter is going to be a breather, and we are getting _so_ close to the end! I promise it will (hopefully) be worth it. The prom chapter makes me emotional (but that could just be me) and just, ugh, I want to post it now but I can't, haha
> 
> Seriously, y'all, comments and kudos are so freaking sweet and I adore every single one!! I have three Starmora WIPs going on right now which I'm hoping to have ready by the time this one is over, and I hope you'll enjoy those as well :)


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Gamora discuss their breakup, Natasha makes up her mind, and the Guardians start preparing for prom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look, a chapter that's less than 6k for once! Also, “Peter and Gamora discuss their breakup” was going to be “Peter and Gamora watch _Star Wars_ ”. Honestly, which one’s more important?

By the time they boarded the Milano back home, Peter was pretty sure he was ready to nap for the next fifty years (not really an analogy he wanted to be making around Cap). Then again, he kind of always wanted to be sleeping. Hey, he was a superhero - he deserved some rest.

Their return to the Academy was apparently heavily-advertised, as Janet had been in Avengers Hall when Pepper received the transmission from Nova Prime. There was a whole crowd around the landing bay when they arrived, resulting in a celebrity-like hysteria as everyone tried to talk to the Guardians. Pepper arrived in her Rescue armour, chasing everyone away and citing that they needed to recuperate. Maria managed to get their statements for Director Fury, and Patsy got a couple quotes for the Academy’s news station, before they were finally left alone.

Upon reflection (and a heavy dose of medication for his injuries), as terrible as the experienced had been, it honestly wasn’t the worst job they’d ever taken, and Peter was grateful he didn’t have to do it alone. Gamora seemed to feel the same way, having once again crawled into bed with him and told him not to ask questions. He had a gut feeling it was her desire for physical comfort, to make up for the lack of intimacy she had grown up with, but at this rate, Peter wasn’t sure how much longer they could think of it as “platonic” bed-sharing when they were “dating” as well. _Guess we’re never gonna talk about that night at the hotel_ , he mused to himself, watching as she buried herself deeper into his - her? - pillow.

Groot seemed to have firmly joined the camp of the ever-so-persistent Yondu and Mantis, now using every spare moment he had with both Peter and Gamora (separately) to whine. At first, they both thought he’d gotten sick, but then realized he was also pushing for their relationship to be real. He had even gone to chat with Janet, the one other person who understood his true meaning, and told her about everything that had happened over the past week. From there, Janet took the opportunity to broadcast it to the rest of the school.

“Our little Groot here refers to them as his substitute mom and dad. How cute,” she had squealed on her newest episode of _The Latest Buzz_. “Remember, everyone, you have one more day to vote for yearbook superlatives, including one of _the_ most popular categories, Cutest Couple. Now, I’m not one to show bias, I adore all you ‘ships’ out there, but one of the _hottest_ trending topics on Twitter as of late has been - of course - ‘hashtag-starmora’! Is that not the cutest ship name ever?” (Tony later protested to Janet that “pepperony” was cuter and strong example of wordplay, but then Pepper reminded him that he still hadn’t _actually_ asked her to prom yet, despite asking after the colour of her dress so he could get a tie and corsage.)

After the episode had been broadcast, Peter commended Groot for talking to Janet. “You did good, buddy. I think it was the last push we needed to get votes,” he smiled. It felt kind of stupid to say when he considered the context - one silly idea they had reluctantly agreed was brilliant, all to make ten thousand units. It was weird, looking back and realizing what this had all been for. Money or no money, they had lied to the entire galaxy to make a measly buck, gotten people invested into a relationship that didn’t exist, and roped their friends into lying for them. Maybe that was the real reason they were pushing so hard for them to be together - so they wouldn’t sweat so much whenever Patsy or Janet shoved a microphone in their faces.

He felt guilty in a way he never had before, which was unusual. Peter had lied plenty before - it was second nature to him, having grown up a Ravager. He had been a thief for so long, the con artist with the silver tongue and good looks to charm people into giving him what he wanted, so long as he knew what lies to tell. He was unsure of what had triggered the guilt until he watched Janet’s show back, and saw the enthusiasm that sang in Groot’s eyes, the pure, unadulterated joy he had in talking about his “parents”.

When Gamora joined him on Saturday night for what was now a proper tradition, a teasing grin on her face as she asked about _Star Wars_ , Peter could barely concentrate. For once, it wasn’t because she was curled up into his side, wearing one of his T-shirts that fit so snugly on him and so loosely on her. He almost couldn’t enjoy watching Gamora’s fascination when Luke first received his father’s lightsaber (“Rocket could probably create weapons like this, right?”). He did, however, chuckle when she pointed out that Han and Leia had a very antagonistic relationship.

“They’re a bit like us when we first met,” she pointed out with a giggle. “Although your idea of saving me didn’t exactly work, did it?” Peter wisely didn’t mention how obvious it was that Han and Leia were going to get together, since it wasn’t going that direction for him and her.

As the credits rolled, Gamora turned onto her back and stretched, letting out a satisfied noise that temporarily sent Peter’s mind straight to the gutter, watching as her hips dug themselves deeper into the mattress, her chest pushed outwards as she exhaled loudly. _Focus_ , he scolded himself.

“So, voting ended yesterday. Which means we aren’t really obligated to keep going if you don’t want to,” Peter said hesitantly.

Gamora blinked, confused. “Quill, we talked about this just last week, remember? We agreed to keep it going, or else our classmates - ”

“That’s exactly why I was thinking of giving it up,” Peter interrupted. “I don’t know about you, but I feel guilty. Watching Groot lie for us - he’s just a kid, and I don’t like that we’re teaching him how to lie. He’s not the same Groot he was before, and this is our opportunity to make him better, you know? Not that he’s a bad guy, but we can avoid some of the corrupt, immoral behaviour we were all guilty of before we came to this school. A clean slate. And _every_ single time someone talks about how much they like us being together, I think about how much of a lie it all is.”

“And it’s barely a lie at this point,” Gamora protested, instinctively reaching out to rest her fingers against Peter’s chest. The sound of his bandages crinkling made her wince - she should have done more to help him, to prevent his injuries from being _this_ bad. As much as Peter pretended everything was okay, she had heard him whimpering in his sleep, from both his nightmares and his pain. She had to wipe away the damp on his forehead with a facecloth more than once, hoping the trauma of their mission would soon come to pass. “We tell everyone we watch movies, we train, we study. We told people what happened during our weekend trip, we told people about what happened this past week with Brionne. The only lie is that we aren’t actually dating, and the...expectations...of our physical intimacy.”

“You don’t call this intimate?” Peter glanced down at their bodies, taking in the ways they were intertwined. Gamora’s socked feet resting on top of his bare ones, one of her knees slung over his thighs, her stomach and chest pressed against his. She was so close that he could count her eyelashes, describe the warmth of her eye colour at length, or, with one tilt of his head, kiss her.

“Not the kind of intimacy everyone’s thinking about,” she said softly, her eyes flickering to his mouth for a brief second. At the rate they were going, she felt as if she and Peter were crossing the line of what was acceptable in this “relationship” of theirs, whether it was their fake romantic relationship or their real platonic one.

“I guess what I’m trying to say,” Peter said slowly, “is that if we see this through to the end, we should figure out how we’re gonna ‘break up’. We never got around to talking about it.”

To his disappointment, she pulled away, resuming her position on her back, gazing up at the ceiling contemplatively. “Something realistic. But nothing _too_ complex.”

“Well, we fight a lot, there’s no denying that. There has to be _something_ there - me being too relaxed about Thanos. Me being too overprotective and not letting you fight your own battles. Me not caring about other people saying shit about me - wow, it’s always me, isn’t it.” He let out a self-deprecating laugh, hanging his head slightly.

She gripped his chin, forcing him to meet her eyes. “Me insulting your very character,” she said, blinking at him forlornly. “A simple misunderstanding of your emotional depths gone wrong. I said something that made you question why you cared for me at all, something so unforgivable, that you broke up with me.”

He shivered a little at the thought, or even worse, what Gamora was possibly imagining that would fulfill such harsh requirements. What could she possibly do to make him turn against her? Even in his anger just two weeks ago, he still wanted to make amends, to move past things, forgive and forget. “It’d be unexpected. People would be surprised to find out it wasn’t _me_ that caused it. But, I don’t know, Gamora, I don’t like the idea of making you the bad guy.”

“So you’d rather me be the _victim_? Poor, sad, Gamora, duped by the only stable relationship she’s ever had?” she said almost mockingly. She sat up fully, sitting cross-legged on the bed, arms braced at her sides. “Face it. This ‘breakup’? It’s a no-win situation.”

“You’re right,” he sighed, sitting up as well, leaning up against the wall. It was simple - there would _always_ be consequences. “In a school as drama-fueled as ours, there’s no such thing as an ‘amicable’ breakup. We’ll go with your idea, then.”

“Then it’s settled.” She nodded, turning back around to face him, pushing her hair out of her face. “So, I think you need to explain this to me, this so-called war among the stars…”

* * *

Thankfully, the following week passed by with minimal drama. No invasions, no jobs (though Peter suspected Fury was refraining from sending them anything because of his injuries), nothing of the sort that would once again leave the Guardians torn apart. They were interrogated by the other students a little more than usual, but it was par for the course whenever someone had a mission go astray. It would be old news by the following week.

However, it seemed that Peter’s sorrows hadn’t completely faded away since the job, a haunted look in his eyes for deaths that never occurred. He pulled Mantis aside after class one day, guilt written across the crinkle of his brow and in the tremor of his hands. “I failed you,” he said to her, soft. “What kind of brother am I?”

“A good one, Peter,” Mantis said, reaching to cup his jaw in her hands. They were softer than anyone else’s - unchallenged by bruises, cuts, or calluses of any kind. “Do not beat yourself up for something that never happened.”

“I’m responsible for _all_ of you,” he continued, unwilling to budge. “Gamora’s instincts have proved, time and time again, that she knows better than I do. Maybe we should re-evaluate who’s really running this team.”

“We _could_ do that,” she replied. “Or, _you_ can recognize that you and Gamora serve different purposes. Gamora is here.” She brought one hand to rest on Peter’s temple. “You are _here_.” Her other hand settled over his chest. “This team does not exist without its head and its heart. Do not confuse your mistakes with the consequences.”

“I took the job for money, Mantis, that doesn’t sound like it was driven by anything other than greed.”

“Money that you wanted to spend on getting us safer equipment. Stronger weapons. Paying our tuition,” she added with a chuckle. “Peter, I say this without using my powers. Please do not hide inside your own mind. No one is blaming you for anything.” She stood on her toes so she could kiss his cheek. “You have accepted that you love all of us, faults and all. Accept that we love you in return. And if you need forgiveness, this is me giving it to you.” She squeezed his hands tightly, eyes bright.

“Don’t deserve you,” Peter mumbled, pulling her into a hug. “Don’t deserve any of you. But I’ll take what I can get.”

Conscience cleared, Peter decided to tackle the next emotional hurdle that was muddling his brain, the relationship that, in his mind, never would come to fruition. Despite agreeing that it was the right time to cool off their physical affections, start to hint that things were going sour now that the voting was over, there was a reluctance in both Peter and Gamora that suggested otherwise. She laced her fingers with his without thinking, had taken to angling her head so she could rest against his chest or his shoulder, listening to his steady heartbeat. Peter almost called her “babe” when they were alone nearly half a dozen times, had his hands resting on her waist or at the small of her back constantly.

It had just become so... _easy_. It was easy to pull Peter along by the hand and not the arm, it was easy to kiss the side of Gamora’s head. It was easy to talk about the things they liked about each other, the things they did together, the things they shared as a couple. Peter found himself talking to Cap about a mixtape he wanted to make for Gamora despite having never thought of it before, while Gamora told Elektra about her recent training session with Peter completely unprompted. The other Guardians weren’t blind - they saw the softness in their eyes, the teasing familiarity in their voices, or more explicitly, the way Gamora slipped into Peter’s room nearly every night and never came out. It was getting borderline ridiculous.

“Idiots,” Nebula had to agree when they met up on Monday afternoon. Gamora had gone to her usual after-school sparring practice with Natasha, and Peter had accompanied her. They had claimed it was because Natasha was continuously suspicious about their legitimacy, and wanted to act particularly couple-like in front of her, but the others knew it was because they wanted to be in each other’s company, as always. “They’re basically already together. Quill is even dumber than I realized if he cannot tell.”

“They kept saying they wanted to spend time apart so people would start to think something is wrong, and yet they are closer than ever,” Mantis sighed. “I feel as if we are racing against a clock. Yearbooks are out in less than three weeks, and it may snap them out of it and make them remember they are not an actual couple.”

“We’ve spent way too much time on this,” Rocket interjected. “Here’s a thought - they’re too scared to talk about it, and we’re just forcin’ it on them to make _us_ feel like we did something good. Why can’t we just let ‘em figure it out on their own?”

“Might not get as good an opportunity as now,” Yondu said, twirling his yaka arrow between his fingers. “ _You_ wanna see how miserable they gonna get when they stop being all lovey-dovey? Or you wanna help ‘em make it happen for real, get them heads outta their asses?”

“I am Groot,” Groot said, patting Rocket on the leg to get his attention.

“He says they both told him they wanted it to be real,” Rocket translated reluctantly. “Alright, alright. I just wanna get this out of the way so we can get back to something that’ll make us money. What's-her-face really got my hopes up with half a million units.”

“Perhaps it is not about constantly pushing them together,” Drax said thoughtfully. “They confided in Groot separately, yes? So maybe we should attempt to discuss it with them while apart, and convince them to give it a try.”

“We do have that prom fitting thing-a-m’-jig on Wednesday,” Yondu shrugged. “Could be a mighty good time for some old-fashioned talk.”

“We must make sure not to bring up what they told Groot, though,” Mantis added. “They put a lot of trust in him when they told him of their feelings for each other. We cannot betray that trust.” She paused. “By the way, do we all have dates for prom?” The group looked at each other blankly. “Did we even _buy_ tickets?”

“Well, shit.” Yondu laughed heartily, getting to his feet. “Guess I’ll swing by to get ‘em for all of us. Get a date, too.”

“You will have no luck,” Drax informed him. “Most of the girls already have dates, from what I have read on the Wasp’s blog.”

“Those two don’t,” Yondu said, winking at Nebula and Mantis, who exchanged dubious looks in return - a rare moment of solidarity. “Back in a mo’, ladies.”

* * *

There was little Peter enjoyed more than watching Gamora and Natasha go head-to-head in combat. His own skills were proficient enough, but there was something about the ability to witness some top-notch fighting that made him happy. He also couldn’t help but whoop excitedly every single time Gamora prevailed, though she kept shooting him half-annoyed, half-fond looks in return. _Worth it_.

When the two girls took a water break, Gamora settled down next to him, pressing her shoulder up against his. “You don’t have to be my personal cheerleader, Quill,” she teased, taking a generous gulp from her water bottle. “It’s kind of distracting.”

“Sorry,” he chuckled, leaning in to kiss the side of her head. “Just wanted to be supportive.”

Natasha joined them on Gamora’s other side, removing her wrist guards as she did so. “You two seem to have recovered from last week’s...excursion. I’m glad to see it.”

“Thanks,” Peter said cheerfully. “Wasn’t my favourite job ever, but at least we had each other. And Groot.”

“And the coming month will hopefully be less…'exciting’,” Natasha continued. “What with Jan’s fundraiser this week, and prom. You’re still going, right?”

“Yes, we got permission from the Director to go off-campus on Wednesday to get fitted,” Gamora nodded. “How about you? Have you found a date yet?”

"Clint and I were talking about going together.” Natasha’s face was stoic as ever, though the slight twitch in her lips betrayed her.

“He still has feelings for you,” Gamora protested. Peter was immensely confused - since when did Gamora participate in school gossip? He hadn’t known her to be particularly involved in the Academy’s social circles. Though, perhaps it was a natural occurrence ever since _her_ love life started making the rounds as well. “Would it be smart to go with him? To give him hope?”

“It’s not like that,” Natasha sighed. “He probably misses Bobbi, too. That’s just the kind of guy he is.”

“But he wants to go to prom with _you_ ,” Gamora countered. “You still mean a lot to him. He might think this is you asking to get back together. At least make it clear that you’re only going to continue being friends, or you’ll both get hurt.”

“I, uh, can’t guarantee that, actually,” Natasha admitted. “Ever since he joined the Academy, part of me wants to be with him again. I see all these qualities in him that I guess I really missed.” The three of them fell silent for a minute, soaking in the weight of her words. Gamora found herself leaning closer to Peter, before giving in to instinct and resting her head on his shoulder. Natasha smiled at the sight. “How do you two do it? Gamora, you and I, we share so many similarities. And Quill, I suppose you and Clint also have your like qualities as well. But while he and I fell apart, you seem to have it figured out.”

Gamora glanced up at Peter, mulling over what it was that made them so compatible. Not as a couple, but as friends - _best_ friends. It was as if she were back on that mission to recover Nebula all over again, contemplating why she and Peter wouldn’t be good together. And yet, here was Natasha, undoubtedly the most perceptive person the entire campus (aside from the Director, of course), coming to the conclusion that they made _sense_.

“Balance,” she said finally. Peter tipped his head downwards to rest his forehead against hers, grinning at her cheekily before withdrawing again. She found herself momentarily distracted by the twinkle in his eyes. Gamora turned back to look at Natasha. “My discipline, his knack for improvisation - we’ve come to learn from each other, simply by running the Guardians together.”

“Compromise,” Natasha said with a sharp nod. She twirled one of her batons in her hand, eyes fixated as it spun. “You’d think for two spies, we’d understand how to do that,” she added with a self-deprecating chuckle. “For the record, I think you two seem really well-matched. I’m kind of hoping you win - not that I don’t like Steve and Carter together, but there’s something...grounded about you.”

The two exchanged looks as Natasha got back to her feet, ready to begin again. _Success_.

After their session was over, Peter and Gamora walked back to the Milano, hand-in-hand, neither of them brave enough to point out that it was unnecessary, considering most people had returned to their dorms for dinner, leaving the campus quite empty. “I didn’t know you were so invested in other people’s love lives,” he commented.

“When people want to talk about _my_ relationship so often, it’s easy to pick up those kinds of things,” she replied. “I can only imagine people are going to bother me more and more about you _after_ we break up.”

“Kinda has become the dominant topic when it comes to you and me, hasn’t it. Any regrets?”

"About this?” Gamora lifted their joined hands for a moment before dropping them back down by their sides again. “All things considered, we’ve done well, don’t you think? It’s been morally questionable this whole time, but I think we got more than money out of this.”

When they arrived at the loading bay, they spotted Groot sitting on the Milano’s ramp, kicking his little feet in the air and humming idly. He immediately perked up at the sight of them, then turned to immediately sprint back inside the ship. “Huh,” Peter said, watching him go. “That was weird.” It became weirder still when they walked inside to find the others had fallen silent. “Um, did something happen?”

“Nothing, hello!” Mantis said loudly. She was stirring something on the stove, wooden spoon clanging loudly inside the pot. “How was your sparring practice, Gamora?”

“It was fine,” Gamora said slowly, suspiciously. She moved to drop her bag by the couch and strip off her gloves. “What were you all talking about before we got here? And _don’t_ lie to me.”

There was an awkward moment of silence, the others exchanging panicked glances in an attempt to figure out who was going to speak. “Just wonderin’ if you two signed up for the fundraiser,” Yondu said finally. “Speculatin’, that’s all.”

“Helping Coulson with a weapons demo, since I’m apparently one of the best gunslingers on campus. Can’t argue with that,” Peter boasted, setting his knapsack down next to Gamora’s. “Gamora’s with Elektra and Colleen for a sword demonstration. That’ll be _awesome_.”

Gamora smiled in return, pleased, as she settled down onto the couch. Groot hopped up to join her, curling into the crook of her elbow with a contented sigh. “Have we got any jobs lined up recently? Even anything Terran-bound?”

“Preferably Terran-bound,” Peter added, sitting next to her. “We don’t need a repeat of the last few times we’ve done off-planet work. It’s like we’re cursed.”

“Cursed would be putting it lightly,” Drax said, nodding. “Fate is not our friend, Quill.”

“Sorry, Quill. Outta work at the moment,” Rocket shrugged. “But wait about three-ish weeks, and we’ll be comin’ into a lot of units, courtesy of Stark.”

“First thing on the list - better mattresses for the Milano,” Peter said, causing Gamora to giggle into his shoulder.

“Mine is comfortable enough,” Nebula said with a defensive scowl, though she couldn’t help but eye the way her sister was practically tangled up with Peter. “However, if Gamora is going to continue sharing your bed, I would like her room. It’s bigger.”

“We’re not sharing a bed,” Gamora said almost too quickly, sitting back up. “I just fall asleep in there sometimes when I’m making Quill do homework.”

“At midnight? You are not _that_ committed to school, are you?” Mantis asked innocently. Gamora frowned, getting to her feet.

“I’m going to go shower,” she huffed. “No one ask _any_ more pointless questions when I get back.”

Rocket ducked behind the kitchen counter to hide from Peter so he could snicker with Yondu. Maybe this whole matchmaking thing was going to be fun, after all.

* * *

On Wednesday afternoon, after classes were finished for the day, the Guardians piled into another vehicle on loan from Stark, this time something he affectionately referred to as the “Iron Soccer Mom”, and headed into the city to get fitted for prom. Mantis attempted to get a game of “I, Spy” going, until Drax began questioning the legitimacy of her hints, leaving everyone more irritated than entertained. Groot stood on Rocket’s shoulder so he could stare out the window, while Nebula and Yondu bemoaned being forced to sit next to each other, _again_. Gamora was glad Peter had designated her to ride shotgun, away from the nonsense going on behind them.

“So, have you guys been practicing much for the fundraiser?” Peter asked when they were about thirty minutes away from the shop.

“Not as much as I’d like,” Gamora sighed. He glanced over at her briefly, only to notice that she was casually flipping the multi-tool he’d given her as their “one-week anniversary present”. He hadn’t even been aware that she was keeping it on her person, assuming that she would have abandoned it long ago. “They’re too busy hunting down the Hand with the other Defenders. Or at least, Colleen is. Elektra spends her free time rolling around the sheets with Murdock.”

“They do seem attached at the...crotch.” Peter made a face like he had regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. “Hey, so are we gonna do the whole ‘groom doesn’t get to see the bride’s dress’ thing?”

“The...what?” Gamora was utterly perplexed. His tendency to forget that the others didn’t understand Terran customs happened far too often.

“I really gotta stop doing that to you guys,” Peter chuckled. “Guys usually don’t see their wife’s wedding dress until the day of. I was just wondering if you wanted to keep your prom dress a secret from me.”

“I’m not your wife, Quill,” she said, continuing to frown. “And...I’m not your girlfriend, either.” It was an echo of a sentiment she’d expressed many times in the past, something that was reassuring at first, and now just an unwelcome reminder of what was really happening.

“Yeah, but I’d probably ask you to prom even if we weren’t doing this...thing,” he replied, taking a hand off the wheel so he could gesture between them. “I mean, as friends. I’d ask you regardless.”

Mantis leaned forward in her seat, her frustration at Drax melting away in her eagerness to help the conversation along. “I would suggest you do it, Gamora. It will make for a fun reveal at prom!”

Gamora threw her hands up, knowing she couldn’t win against Peter and Mantis’s enthusiasm. She wasn’t sure what the big deal was, but it seemed important to them. “Fine, whatever, if you say so.”

When they arrived at the shop and checked in, the guys and girls were ushered into separate rooms by overly-enthusiastic attendants. Mantis was practically bouncing off the walls in excitement, oohing and ahhing at the displays of jewelry, headpieces, and shoes. Gamora put a hand on Nebula’s arm to remind her not to mock - none of them had ever really done something like this before, so Mantis was definitely entitled to her happiness.

“I can’t believe you convinced me to do this,” Nebula sighed regardless, sprawling across a large, overstuffed pouf. It was a little comical to see her surrounded by cream-coloured furniture with tassels and sequins. “We have more pressing concerns, sister.”

“We don’t have to be weapons up at all times,” Gamora replied gently, patting her on the leg. “It’s been a trying few months. Let’s have fun when we can.”

“Don’t try and deceive me, you’re using this as another opportunity to spend time with Quill,” Nebula retorted.

“I think it is very sweet,” Mantis piped up. “Do not miss your chance, Gamora. Prom would be a very good time to make your feelings known.”

“You keep talking of feelings that don’t exist,” Gamora said firmly, folding her arms across her chest. “Once the ruse is over and we’ve been paid out our ten thousand units, everything will be back to normal.”

Nebula let out a snort. “Please. As if we _have_ a normal.”

In the other room, the boys weren’t faring much better. Yondu was getting fitted in his powder blue suit (“offsets the blue of my skin quite nice, doncha think?”), turning and lifting his arms obediently for the tailor. Drax and Peter were seated on the poufs, while Rocket was sitting on the floor with Groot, entertaining him with a laser pointer.

“I have something to ask of you, Quill,” Drax said nervously, leaning forwards.

“I didn’t do it.” Drax looked at him quizzically. “Oh, you’re not asking about the dagger that I _definitely_ didn’t lose on Berhert. Yeah, okay, go on.”

“I would like to ask Mantis to be my date for the prom. As friends, of course. We have established that - ”

“Yeah, yeah, you don’t find her attractive, don’t have to tell me a hundred times,” Peter sighed. “And you don’t need my permission, man, Mantis can answer however she wants.”

“If you’re sure,” Drax nodded, an infectious smile blooming across his face. “You are a good man, Quill. I am glad we are friends.”

“Me too,” Peter grinned, slinging an arm over Drax’s shoulder.

“You two done yammerin’? It’s your turn, Drax.” Yondu made his way over to them, now back in his regular clothes. He took Drax’s spot as the other proceeded to join the tailor (“I admire your business, sir, but I have no desire to wear a shirt”), settling in like he owned the place, as he always did. “Well, shoot. Guess I gotta ask Nebula, then.”

Rocket was quite literally rolling on the floor with laughter. Groot was somewhat confused, but giggling alongside him. “Won’t that be a sight to see! Maybe you two’ll finally kill each other tryna slow dance.”

“I think the _real_ show of the night is gonna be Quill and Gamora, hey?” Yondu elbowed Peter teasingly. “C’mon, boy, ‘fess up already. You two already shackin’ up in your room, holdin’ hands all the time, even got them inside jokes. You still tellin’ me she ain’t got feelings for you? You’re practically dating already!”

“We’re just really close,” Peter mumbled, turning away. “She’s not used to someone being in her personal space and _not_ trying to kill her. Besides, if she is interested - and I really doubt it - I want to let _her_ make the first move. She deserves that choice.”

“Noble of ya,” Yondu nodded. “I can respect that. But like I said, girl with that kind of upbringing? Might spook easier than you think. Live in denial, like you. Be a little more upfront, Quill. _You_ take two steps forward, and let her take the last one.”

“I am Groot,” Groot said enthusiastically, running over to cling to Peter’s ankle. “I am Groot!”

“Groot says he wants to make the corsage for you,” Rocket translated. “Aw, that’s nice of you, man.”

“Oh god, I almost forgot about the corsage,” Peter groaned. “Thanks, Groot.”

Meanwhile, Gamora stepped out from her dressing room, nervously smoothing down the pleats on the front of her gown. It was moments like this that made her feel like a young girl again, snippets of old memories coming back. Her mother, wearing a pretty evening dress, putting on her earrings as she got ready to go out on a date with her father. Gamora would always sit at her feet, staring in awe at her strong, beautiful mother, wondering if she would be like her when she was older.

To this day, Gamora wished she was able to tell.

“Oh, Gamora,” Mantis sighed dreamily. “You look so pretty. And so fierce, too - I very much like this belt.” She reached to gently touch the leather wrap at Gamora’s waist. “It is very you.”

“Yes, very pretty, Quill won’t be able to take his eyes off you, etcetera,” Nebula deadpanned. She paused, standing to inspect her sister a bit closer. “...you do look acceptable, though.”

Gamora and Mantis’s eyebrows shot up in near-perfect synchronicity. “I’m in shock,” Gamora said dryly. “That was almost a compliment.”

“Get over yourself,” Nebula grumbled, sitting back down. _God_ , her sister was going to become even more insufferable once she _actually_ started dating Quill. His sarcasm was going to infect her like a disease.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could just write Guardians shenanigans forever, in all honesty. All of them being like "are you kidding me" at Peter and Gamora is just me yelling at myself for making them deny everything so hard.
> 
> Next chapter is the fundraiser! I know I keep teasing y'all about the prom chapter, but you can probably guess which chapter number it's gonna be (hint: look at the title).
> 
> Thanks for the comments and kudos!! I'm also seeing some lovely comments on Tumblr as well, so shout-out to you as well!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The school festival commences, Yondu gets some horrifying news, and Peter and Gamora discuss what love means to them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters 15 through 17, also known as the chapters where Peter and Gamora watch the entire original _Star Wars_ trilogy. Yay?

Unfortunately for Gamora, ever since she and Peter had passed Natasha’s little test, it seemed as if her social calendar was filling up rather unexpectedly, the floodgates having been opened for Janet to bombard her with pre-prom all-girl events, including sleepovers, salon trips, nail appointments, and...dancing lessons.

“I have danced plenty with Quill,” Gamora had said hastily upon seeing Janet’s digital event spreadsheet (it was colour-coded). “Thank you, Janet, but I’ll pass.”

She had also somehow gotten roped into being on the set-up committee for the fundraiser festival. So, on Thursday evening, she found herself hanging up decorations, while secretly wishing she was back on the Milano, watching _The Empire Strikes Back_ with Peter (“Gamora, this movie is _perfection_ ”).

“I heard you guys got your outfits all sorted,” Janet said cheerily. The two of them were stringing up white holiday lights around the quad, while the other volunteers were making signs, setting out tables, and checking the electrical wiring. “Have you decided on your hair and makeup yet?”

“Not quite, but I figured I could consult you for that,” Gamora replied. Janet beamed - clearly, it had been the right response. “I also have a little surprise in my outfit, for Quill.”

“Well doesn’t that sound sexy?” Elektra purred from nearby, where she was painting the banner for the kissing booth. “I have a thigh-high slit in my dress. Matthew always did like my legs the best. What’s _your_ surprise?”

“Nothing like that,” Gamora said, annoyed. “It’s my shoes, actually.” She found the picture of said shoes on her phone and held it out for the other girls to gather around and see. Janet let out a squeal of excitement.

“Oh, he’ll love that,” she sighed. “It’s very sweet of you.” She turned back to the task at hand. “And your six-month anniversary is this week, isn’t it? You have anything fun planned?”

Gamora froze, her hands still in mid-air in an attempt to detangle a section of lights. How could she have forgotten? The two of them had buckled down on their relationship “timeline” recently, mapping out the trajectory of their breakup in the way they planned for missions. In her defense, it wasn’t like _she_ had a colour-coded digital spreadsheet. Hell, the Guardians’ only semblance of organization was a shwarma receipt taped to their fridge door, with their grocery list written on the back of it. Instead of check marks, it had tallies - they couldn’t be bothered to make a new list every time.

“Quill has a surprise for me,” she lied smoothly, recovering. “I have no idea what it could be or when it’s happening, but I trust him.”

“I’m sure it’ll be romantic as always. Your trip to New York was super cute,” Janet gushed, wrapping up the last of the lights. “Nat told me Peter was constantly cheering you on during training. I think it’s sweet how much he adores your badass-ness. I mean, who wants to be with someone who can’t appreciate a girl for everything she is, right?”

“Hear, hear!” Elektra called, raising her paintbrush in victory.

Gamora, feeling particularly bold, decided to embellish a little more. Partially because talking about Peter had become second nature as of late, but also because Elektra was starting to irritate her. “Quill walked into a door when first saw me during a combat exam. He told me it was because he’d been amazed by what he saw, that he’d never seen a girl like me before. It’s...kind of sweet.”

“ _Kind of_? That’s the cutest thing I’ve heard all week, and I heard Lucky sneeze this morning.” Janet stared at Gamora, scarily serious. “Do you know how _cute_ dog sneezes are? It seems pretty clear to me that you and Peter were made for each other.”

Gamora turned away, fussing at another knot that didn’t exist, hoping the others couldn’t see the mixed emotions written across her face. _Made for each other_ , she scoffed to herself. She had told herself, time and time again, that her chance at a normal life had ended the moment Thanos had first stepped onto her homeworld, ceased to exist when he’d grabbed her by the ankles and hauled her away from her parents’ bodies. The very notion of love - any sort of love, be it familial, platonic, or romantic - was laughable for a girl like her, a child raised as a weapon. And yet, here she was, at this academy that she never thought would exist in her lifetime, meant to house all sorts of heroes, anti-heroes, anti-villains, and reformed villains alike, living their lives of various degrees of heroism, sprinkled with “normalcy”, whatever that meant. So yes, maybe romantic relationships were in the cards after all, but she was still so unsure of whether it could ever happen with Peter.

She had fantasized about it, of course, the different scenarios that could come about. Combat practice that ended with her pinning him to the ground (as always), leaning in to peck him on the cheek for his troubles. Him attempting to pass her notes in class - he already did that every now and then, asking for help with a certain question, or to meet with him after school, but she could imagine him to be the type to write song lyrics that made him think of her. A post-mission adrenaline rush, resulting in frenzied kisses against his bedroom door before it became too much and not enough, her practically throwing him down on the bed, straddling him in an instant, wondering why Peter’s belt was too complex to remove within seconds. That last one had featured in Gamora’s mind more than once, that was for sure.

Aside from what she was sure to be just her own imagination running wild, what Gamora couldn’t picture was how they would deal with the more unsavory parts of herself, the thoughts that lingered on what she had done and the people she had done it to. Her first kill at the age of nine. Her first massacre at the age of twelve. Inflicting physical torture by thirteen, and psychological warfare by the time she was fifteen. Gamora was getting better at tackling them all on her own, of course. She wasn’t quite as “gloom and doom” as Nebula, she didn’t think about the inevitability of death the way that poor Bucky Barnes did, but sometimes there would be a twitch in her muscles, or a glimpse of a face in the crowd, that would take her back to “before”. Sharing a bed with Peter had helped combat the nightmares, but it was when she was awake that her brain decided to take her psyche and play. She wasn’t about to tell him any of that, knowing it would result in him hovering, prodding, and fussing like he always did. She didn’t need him to take care of her, and he knew that, but he would try anyway.

Gamora didn’t return to the Milano until late into the night, wondering if any of the Guardians were even there. It was always a toss-up between them sleeping on the ship or back at the dorms, though Rocket was usually the most consistent presence on the Milano, since his own night terrors led to him tinkering away at 3 AM. It was something they never talked about whenever they caught each other wandering around, bleary-eyed and trembling, too numb to speak. “Hello?” Gamora called out as she entered the common area.

Peter was sitting on the couch in the dark, the tablet in his hand being the only source of light. It left a soft glow around his face, highlighting the darkness of the bags under his eyes, the visible clench in his jaw. He looked oddly serious until he seemed to have registered the sound of her voice, his head snapping back up. His grim expression was instantly replaced with his signature grin. “Gamora, hey. Wasn’t expecting you back.” He quickly closed what it was he’d been looking at, though she could have sworn she saw a picture of her face on the screen.

“Thought I’d take my chances, see if you were here instead of the dorms. You’ve been spending a lot of time on the Milano lately, more than usual,” she commented. She considered sitting right next to him, but it felt too intimate when no one else was around to fill the space. She settled for the armchair instead. “Any reason?”

He patted the armrest he was draped over. “Milano’s my girl. She was out of commission for so long, I guess I wanted to keep her company, like she’s a sick pet or something. Is that weird? Yeah, that’s kinda weird.”

Gamora shrugged. “Not that weird. Your attachment to the Milano is to be expected, considering all you’ve been through with...her,” she acquiesced. “What were you looking at?”

Peter glanced back at the tablet in his hands, as if he had forgotten it was there. “Going through our Google Alerts, actually. Pepper set it up for me so I could keep track of our press. Lots of stuff about you and me, especially with that video of Groot.”

“You still feel guilty,” she guessed, eyeing the near-permanent crease between his eyebrows. “Quill, it’s okay.”

“It’s not that, not anymore,” he sighed, leaning back. “It’s more like, there’s a lot more people invested in our ‘relationship’ than I thought, and not just our classmates. When we started this whole thing, I thought it’d just be Janet and Kamala, because they love that kind of stuff. But there’s _drawings_ of us. There’s couples recreating the kissing selfie from Central Park. I asked Cap about this yesterday, and he said he gets the same thing with him and Carter, that it’s all part of the job, but it’s still freaking me out. He told me not to look into something called...fan...fiction?”

Gamora wasn’t sure what he was talking about either, but moved to sit next to him and clasp his hands in between hers. “And it will pass once word of our breakup spreads. We’ve seen what the media is like in this world - fast, fleeting. We will be yesterday’s news before tomorrow’s headlines are even written.”

Peter looked down at their entangled fingers, squeezing. “Profound. I like it.” she pulled away after a moment of comfortable silence, shooting him that warm, almost flirtatious smile once again. He never really knew what to expect whenever she looked at him like that, or how he was supposed to interpret it. He chose to pretend Gamora really was flirting with him, that she was inviting him to flirt back. “What?”

“Janet reminded me that our six-month anniversary is this week,” Gamora replied. “I told her you had a surprise for me.” She stood, moving towards the hall. “Anyways, I’m going to bed now.” He was disappointed to see her hand coming to rest on the handle of her own bedroom door.

“Wait, what _are_ we doing for our six-month anniversary?” he called. His stomach turned slightly at how legitimate it felt as he said it, like they had been actually dating for six months instead of faking it for three.

“Like I said. Surprise me.” She grinned before disappearing into her room, leaving Peter feeling slightly disgruntled, but mostly stunned. _Well, damn_.

* * *

The entire Academy seemed to have woken up earlier than usual on Friday morning, eager for a school-wide event that, for once, wasn’t some sort of invasion or fight. Not to mention the fact it also got them out of attending class - Janet van Dyne, everyone’s friend, the perfect event planner, and secret genius.

As it turned out, Peter and Gamora were the only ones on the Milano that night, which made him somewhat curious as to why she had slept in her own room instead. She only seemed to do it whenever the others pointed it out and embarrassed her, but with them being alone...Peter shivered a little. Okay, maybe she had a point. There was no telling how stupidly brave he would try to be if there was no one else around to mock him for trying.

Regardless, they had a relatively peaceful breakfast together, chatting quietly about their respective festival gigs, enjoying the lack of interruptions or teasing from the others. It felt like all the clichés in the world coming together for Peter when he admired the way the early morning light illuminated Gamora’s face, the red undertones of her dark hair more prominent than usual. And if Gamora was eyeing the scruffy bedhead that Peter was sporting, wondering if he would object to her running her fingers through it, _he_ didn’t need to know.

“By the way, a group of us are playing a surprise show at the end. Don’t tell anyone,” she said, setting her spoon down into her empty cereal bowl. “Me, Drax, Adam, Barnes, and Gwen.”

“That sounds amazing,” Peter replied through a mouthful of Cheerios. “In the quad?”

“Mhm,” she hummed. “Janet’s got a couple cameras set up so she can film the show and put it online. Said it would be good for boosting the public’s perception of us, though she claims all the photos of our dates and the selfies that I’ve sent her are doing a fine job already.” She twirled the spoon around absent-mindedly. “I looked at some of the articles you talked about last night after I went to bed, and it’s even more than I realized. It’s honestly overwhelming how invested people are.”

“We’re a good-looking pair of badasses from space,” he shrugged. “In hindsight, not _that_ surprising.”

“And so humble,” Gamora teased. “I suppose it sells better papers than Matt and Elektra. A law student and a socialite’s daughter is hardly worth anything beyond the society pages.”

After breakfast, they dressed and made their way to the quad, where it seemed as if every single student was currently bustling about, whether to help with last-minute setup, or to wait in nervous anticipation. Some students, like Nebula, had opted not to participate or volunteer, whether they were too busy, too lazy, or couldn’t be bothered (...like Nebula).

“Over here, Gamora!” Janet called cheerfully, gesturing for her to join Elektra and Colleen at their station.

“See you later,” Peter said, leaning in to kiss her without a spare thought. He was slightly alarmed to find Gamora also tipping her chin up in response to meet him halfway, an automatic movement on both their parts. Janet cooed in the background as their lips met briefly, before Gamora pulled away, biting her bottom lip in the way that made every thought evaporate out of Peter’s mind. He watched her leave, wondering when the careful calculation of every hand-hold, every kiss, had turned into second nature.

The fundraiser started off with a bang - literally, as Tony, Rhodey, and Pepper flew over the crowd, providing a light show with the use of their modified reactor beams - and the energy remained high throughout the day. Despite not being particularly close with Colleen or a big fan of Elektra, Gamora still found herself having fun with the other girls. Elektra especially was more endearing to her, once she stopped bragging about her and Matt’s exploits of both the hero and the sexual kind.

“I’m glad to see girls like us, with such terrible pasts, can be redeemed,” Elektra said privately to her during one of their water breaks. “But we must remember to never compromise on how powerful we truly are.”

“That’s a good way of putting it,” Gamora commented thoughtfully. “We still deserve a place to go home to, with people who love us, so we can love them and provide for them in return.”

“Which is why I hope Romanoff can see beyond her own past as well.” Elektra nodded at Natasha, who was standing across the quad, chatting with Clint. He was leaning against a tree, nonchalantly blowing bubblegum as he always was. They couldn’t hear the conversation, but he was apparently doing a good job of making her laugh. “She’s had her relationships with different kinds of boys on this campus, including a bit of a tussle with Matthew that I don’t appreciate, but there’s something about that weird one that has her captivated, even though they already didn’t work out. I confess I don’t understand.”

“He’s her best friend,” Gamora said quietly. “She probably trusts him with her mind and her heart more than anyone else. They’re both strong, in different ways, but they’re stronger together. He played an important role in her redemption, so her attachment was there from the start. She doesn’t want to know what life is like without him in it, and he came into his own full potential partially because of her guidance. It makes perfect sense.”

Elektra raised an eyebrow. “Honey, are you talking about _them_ , or you and Peter?”

Gamora was unsure of how to answer, so her only response was to take another long drink from her water bottle. She found herself desperately wishing it was alcohol at this point.

Peter, meanwhile, was having a blast with Agent Coulson, whose fanboyish enthusiasm for all the various weapons that both Stark and Rocket had donated for their presentation couldn’t be contained. “You might be the only person who calls me Star-Lord consistently,” Peter told him.

“It’s a cool name,” Coulson replied with a shrug and an easygoing grin. “I wish I had an outlaw name.”

“Your name’s already pretty badass,” Peter said, smiling back. “Thor and his crew call you ‘Son of Coul’, like all the time. That’s already pretty cool.”

Coulson’s eyes widened. “Really? You think so?”

Peter patted him on the back. “Hell, yeah, dude!”

The other Guardians were enjoying themselves at their stations as well, with the exception of Nebula, who opted to walk around by herself and occasionally stop by Gamora’s spot to see if she was going to screw up (she hadn’t, of course). Rocket was giving engineering lessons to students wanting to get better at technology, Drax was challenging people to wrestle (though he drew the line at Hulk - he wasn’t stupid), and Yondu was putting on a “magic show” in which he drew caricatures of people using the yaka arrow. Mantis was using her empathic abilities to predict people’s futures with varying success, and yes, Groot was at the kissing booth, receiving cheek kisses and “ooh”s and “ahh”s of admiration from the majority of the student body.

Peter’s grin was so wide, he was sure he looked maniacal, but he couldn’t find himself to care. It was moments like this that left him in awe of the people had chosen to spend his life alongside - not just the Guardians, but everyone else who made being a hero so much fun. He could have never imagined a life like this after being abducted as a child, raised to be nothing more than a thief, and yet, here he was, living a life that was just so... _good_. Peter could imagine that Gamora and many others had felt the same way at one point in time or another, having lived in unspeakably abusive conditions with abhorrent people. He also hoped that they felt the same way he did about what this school was doing for them, what it meant to them.

He was broken out of his reverie when Gamora walked past him, and more surprisingly, with Nebula and Yondu in tow, Director Fury a few paces ahead of them. “Gamora? What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly, though she looked distressed, lying through her teeth. At his knowing glance, she relented with a sigh. “I’ll tell you later if I can, okay?”

Once again, Peter found himself watching her walk away, though now his mind was racing with the possibilities of what a meeting with Fury could possibly mean for his friends. It was like he had jinxed himself, thinking about how good everything was going. Clearly, someone was about to deal them a hand that they weren’t ready to take.

* * *

“What’s all this fuss about, Director?” Yondu said, as nonchalant as could be. He and Nebula seemed to be having a contest on who could sit in their chair more obnoxiously, while Gamora opted to stand a little off to the side, arms folded across her chest. Fury let out a long sigh, though it seemed more world-weary than people-weary (and there was a difference), settling down on the other side of his desk into his leather office chair.

“It’s distressing news for the three of you. Disturbing, even,” he said, his voice somber. “I’d advise you against telling the others, but I have a feeling you’re probably going to tell Quill anyways. But don’t tell the kid, alright? Groot doesn’t need this kind of stress at his age.”

“What is it?” Gamora asked. Nebula sat up a little straighter, hands coming to rest on her lap. Yondu followed suit, the jovial humour in his eyes evaporating near instantly.

"Seems Thanos wanted to send a message.” Fury leaned forward to rest his elbows on his desk, steely-eyed gaze fixed on Yondu. “Got one of them Black Order people - and I don’t know which - after your Ravagers.”

Yondu shot out of his chair in alarm, fists clenched. Gamora took a cautious step forward in case he was about to deck Fury. “You better be lyin’ to me, Director,” he hissed.

“I wish I was.” He was doing his best to sound authoritative, though there was an underlying tone of sympathy that told them how serious it had been. “Forty-five of your men killed, somewhere out in space. I got in touch with the authorities, see if I could find out more, but there’s not much I can do at the moment but wait for their reply.”

Gamora and Nebula exchanged looks over Yondu’s head as he sat back down, stunned. “My boys,” he whispered. He sounded as if he were a million miles away, or more accurately, wanted to _be_ millions of miles away, with his crew. “This is all on me, ain’t it. Tryna be a Guardian, and I get ‘em killed.”

"This is our fault, Yondu, I’m...I’m so sorry.” Gamora reached to rest a hand on his shoulder. “Thanos wants to hurt Nebula and I by hurting you.”

“You two don’t care about me!” Yondu snapped, slapping her hand away and turning to shoot her an ice-cold glare. “You only pretend to ‘cause Quill keeps me around.”

“We do care,” Gamora protested, frowning. “Do you know how often I meet with Director Fury, trying to convince him that you and Nebula have done something, _anything_ that could possibly get you both to finally come on missions with us? You’re part of this family, Yondu, with or without Quill. Do _not_ insult me by denying that very notion.”

He glowered for another moment before slumping over, sighing. He turned to look back at Fury. “At least tell me Kraglin’s okay. That boy doesn’t deserve to be done in, just ‘cause I’m here.”

“He’s the one who contacted the authorities about the hit,” Fury nodded, relieved that the worst of Yondu’s anger seemed to have passed. “I’m sorry to tell you all this, but I figured this secret wasn’t mine to keep. Now, Thanos himself wasn’t seen or heard from at the scene of the crime, so it could just be him sending a message instead of doing the deed himself. Either way, we’re on high alert. I’m not about to get his hands on any of you kids. Especially not you two.” He wagged his finger at Gamora and Nebula. “You’ve had enough to deal with, living your whole damn childhood out with him. He’s not gonna get a hair on anyone’s head if I have anything to say about it, and I’m sure you feel the same.”

Nebula, who had been silent the whole time, finally spoke. “I don’t have _any_ hair on my head, Director. Same as you. But I suppose I can appreciate the sentiment.” She cast a glance over at Yondu, who was staring off into the corner of the room, gritting his teeth as if he were in pain. “Thank you for telling us.”

Fury couldn’t even hide his surprise, staring at her in utter confusion. “Alright, I’m kind of weirded out now. You kids go back to the festivities, and don’t let this spoil the rest of your day.”

* * *

It felt like coming home when Gamora picked up her guitar again, especially after the heaviness of Fury’s reveal. She played like her heart and soul depended on it, soaking in the enthusiastic (and a little off-key) sounds of her classmates singing along to words she had penned herself, every cheer and every clap driving her to push herself harder. What hit her most, however, was the unabashedly wide grins looking back at her. Despite the hardships that everyone had gone through to get here, they all looked so _innocent_ in that moment, so unaffected by the looming horror that could approach them at any time.

The show ended soon after sunset, though the majority of the student population lingered in the quad, cleaning up and chattering excitedly about their favourite parts of the festival. Janet was flitting about as always, taking selfies with everyone and congratulating them on their various successes. Gamora, meanwhile, was dismantling her set-up when she heard footsteps behind her. _I must really have it bad if I can tell who it is without looking_ , she thought, sighing.

“Hey, Quill. You enjoy the show?”

“You were awesome, as always,” Peter grinned, kneeling next to her so he could help with the complex wiring. “I love seeing you play. And it’s been a really long time, too.”

“Too long,” she agreed. “How about your demonstration? How’d that go?”

“Coulson nearly got me with the Destroyer once, but all he did was burn my hair a little.” He ran his fingers through his hair to show her a slightly singed chunk near his left ear. “No big deal, though.”

Finally giving in to the urge, Gamora reached over to ruffle it slightly until the burnt pieces were tucked out of sight. “I can help you trim that later, if you’d like,” she said softly.

“Sure,” Peter replied. “Hey, I was also thinking of watching _Empire Strikes Back_ tonight, if you’re not too tired. We could head to the dorms instead? We helped raise a crap ton of money, we deserve to wake up without back pain.”

Gamora chuckled. It would be the perfect thing to keep her from letting the peril of Fury’s news plague her every thought. “I’m awake enough. As long as you help me pack up the rest of my equipment.”

He held out his hand almost immediately, pinky out for hers to loop with. “Deal.” She hooked their fingers together, eyes twinkling with mirth. Of all the things Peter had taught her about Earth, admittedly, she found this one to be one of the sweetest. A simple gesture he associated with his mom, now another thing that he shared with her.

* * *

Once again, Peter found himself distracted by the sight of Gamora lying by his side, cocooned in his sheets, watching the screen with the level of focus she usually reserved for combat. It was easy to tell by the concentration in her eyes that Gamora’s silence wasn’t out of boredom, but of engagement. Peter wondered if all the movies he’d been showing her before - romantic dramas and comedies, for the most part - were not for her. Instead, it was the adventures, the engaging characters, the world-building - _that_ was the kind of stuff she seemed to love. The idealistic versions of their own world, things that reminded her of the happiest parts of their lives.

“You’re really loving this,” Peter commented as Yoda began training Luke. “I should’ve stuck to this stuff instead of the rom-coms. It’s more your style.”

“It’s not that I disliked the other movies,” Gamora said somewhat defensively. “It’s just...I’ve never really experienced romance, or romantic love. It’s hard to relate to something that I’ve never had.”

Upon hearing her confession, he began to wonder what she considered to be romantic. Her words implied that she based her understanding of romantic love off of what the movies showed her - Westley’s devotion to doing as Buttercup asked in _The Princess Bride_ , Phil wanting to learn everything he could about Rita in _Groundhog Day_. Maybe he was wrong (and Peter found himself to be wrong more often than he’d like to), but it felt as if he were basically already doing those things.

When Peter had first met her, he would’ve joked that her idea of love was knives instead of flowers, and desired combat training in lieu of actual dates, but he knew her better now. He had seen her warm-hearted nature in equal parts to her fierce demeanor. She liked history, as evidenced by how immersed she had been on their “date” at The Met. She enjoyed nihilistic literature, and even though Peter didn’t understand it himself, he wanted to sneak a peek through her bookshelf and figure out what she already owned, so he could buy her more books that would make her happy. He wanted to sit by her side while she wrote songs, be her soundboard for lyrics that she couldn’t quite work out on her own. He wanted to hunt down every movie that he could hope to find that she would enjoy, so he could share as many evenings with her as possible, watching her expressions as she experienced them for the first time. And, in time, Peter wanted to help her on her journey that she never spoke about - rediscovering her home, her culture, her parents, in whatever way she could. There had to be something there, records, photos, videos, _anything_ , that would make her feel like part of a whole again. _Hell_ , he was incredibly gone for this girl.

Then, he got an idea.

“Question,” he said slowly after the movie was over. Gamora had ranted for a good ten minutes about the Darth Vader reveal, her face starting to redden as a result of it. She perked up a little, immediately recognizing the cue that had come to signal their incredibly long-standing game. “What’s romantic to you? Forget everything you saw in the movies, or out there with our classmates, or whatever else you’ve seen. What do _you_ find romantic?”

She turned over onto her back, hands moving to absent-mindedly adjust her pillow as she contemplated the question. “I don’t need anything special,” she finally said. “Big gestures don’t impress me. That’s a sign of showmanship, not love.”

“Then what would be a _sign_ of love to you?” Gamora tensed at this, wondering why Peter was looking so deeply into this particular topic. She could only hope that it was a precursor to something she’d been wanting, but she didn’t want to get her hopes up. This was all just conversation, wasn’t it?

“It’s the small things.” Another memory of her parents appeared to her like an old home movie playing in her brain as she considered the displays of affection she’d witnessed in her life. Her mother, who was terrible at cooking, attempting to make her father his favourite meal. She had burnt it terribly, and Gamora herself had complained at the time, but her father had eaten it regardless with a wide smile on his face. Or her father, who wasn’t the most creative of minds, but had some of the steadiest hands, stretching new canvases so her mother could paint beautiful landscapes. “Like remembering my favourite food, or finding some odd knick-knack that reminds them of me.” Her eyes flickered over to where her utility belt was, laid across Peter’s desk chair, where the multi-tool was tucked away. She had found it to be mostly useless, and tricky to handle correctly without having to take pause in what she was doing, something she couldn’t afford to do in combat. However, it had become one of her most prized possessions, not that she would ever tell anyone that.

“So you’d object if they brought you flowers?” Peter pressed on, determined.

“It’s not like I’d throw them out,” she protested. “It just wouldn’t interest me as much. It doesn’t feel personal.” He nodded, thinking it over. Maybe this whole “giant-crush-on-his-best-friend-slash-fake-girlfriend” thing wasn’t going to leave him with a broken heart after all. There would be time, what with everything he had learned about her these past few months. “Question for you, then. If you had to choose between sex and love, what would it be?”

He laughed, startled. He had never known Gamora to think too much about sex, and he certainly didn’t blame her, considering the horrors she’d experienced as a child, with adults commenting on her attractiveness like it was normal. “They’re not always mutually exclusive, you know. I mean, some people don’t want to have sex at all, and some people don’t want to be in relationships at all, but I’ve never personally felt that way myself.”

“Let me rephrase,” she interrupted, her hand pressed firmly against his chest as if to stop another Peter Quill ramble. “What do you value more, sex or love?”

“Love,” he replied easily. As he expected, she looked rather surprised at his answer. “Sex is great - at least, in my opinion - but I think love is always more fulfilling. Love’s what drove me and my mom to take care of each other, for her to share all the pop culture she grew up on, and for me to enjoy every second of it. Love is what got me and Yondu to bond instead of fight, the way the Ravagers were hoping we’d do. Love is why I fight so hard to keep you guys alive, and safe, and happy. It’s what keeps me going every day, to get up in the morning and be like, hell yeah, I wanna kick ass with the people that are important to me so that other people can live their lives without fear. Y’know? And love doesn’t have to be romantic.”

Gamora bit her tongue before she could ask him to elaborate on the kind of love he felt for her. She was too afraid to know the answer, to hear what she was sure was true. “That’s quite selfless of you. I’m impressed.”

“You wound me every time you doubt me, Gamora,” he said seriously, though his stern face was ruined by a cheesy grin. His expression softened as the moonlight began to creep through his blinds, reflecting the silver on her face, illuminating her impossibly long lashes and the light in her large brown eyes. It was a face he’d been waking up next to so often as of late, a face he wanted to wake up to every day. But the spell could be broken at any time, couldn’t it? Not unless he did something, soon. “What’re you doing tomorrow night?” Peter whispered.

“Nothing, really. Why?”

“It’s our six-month anniversary, of course. I think I know what my surprise for you is gonna be. And it’ll be _awesome_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still banging their heads together, trust me. But oh boy, next chapter will lead to some epiphanies I'm sure you guys will want to see ;)
> 
> Thanks a million for the comments and kudos, lovelies! Also, I hit 1k hits since I posted the last chapter, and how the heck did that happen? When I began writing this, I was like, "this is incredibly niche and will appeal to a grand total of two other people", so I'm super happy to see y'all are enjoying it!!


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Gamora's "six-month anniversary" date goes about as well as expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this chapter wins for most angst-ridden inner monologues.

The moment Gamora woke up on Saturday morning, she could tell something was wrong. As in, that she had slept so perfectly, so peacefully, that there had to be some sort of catch. Blinking slowly, she found herself mere inches away from Peter’s face, though thankfully his eyes were closed, breathing even, indicating he was still asleep. She chuckled slightly at the way his hair was completely flattened on one side, exposing the burnt parts of his hair. Upon closer inspection, she also noticed the slightest patch of raw skin along the top of his ear. For someone who enjoyed his theatrics, Peter undersold his injuries more than she’d like.

Gamora sat up, stretching and letting out a shivering yawn, before rummaging around in his cabinets for scissors. Peter woke a few minutes later, blinking at her sleepily. “Morning,” he mumbled, his voice deeper than usual, a pleasant sound for her to hear. “You cutting my hair now?”

She hummed in affirmation, twirling her finger to indicate for him to sit up and turn his back to her. He obeyed, moving sluggishly into a seated position and shuffling forwards so she had room to join him on the bed. Once she found what she was looking for, Gamora kneeled behind him and began running her fingers through his hair again so she could get the undamaged strands out of the way. “Are you going to tell me anything about tonight? Or am I completely in the dark on this one?”

“No spoilers,” Peter replied, tipping his head back so he could smile at her. “Just meet me at the quad at 7:30.”

“Can I at least get a dress code? Is this a ‘fancy dinner’ kind of situation, or a ‘dancing at Club Galaxy’ situation?” She made her first definitive cut, catching the hair in her free hand, smiling privately to herself. It was a miracle Peter didn’t burn his hair more often, given the amount of explosions, fires, and general chaos that he let himself get too close to.

“It’s a ‘come as you are’ situation.” He fell silent as she made a few more snips before turning to look at her. “Gamora,” he said gently. “I listened to you last night, you know. Small things, not big gestures, right?”

“Good to know you’re paying attention,” she said evenly, though her heart skipped rather anxiously. “I guess I’ve also been wondering what we’re gonna do once we finally finish our game of 20 Questions.”

“I’ll still answer you,” Peter said almost too quickly, mentally kicking himself for being too eager. “If they’re not _too_ personal.”

“We’ve asked each other a _lot_ of personal things,” Gamora countered. “Is there really anything off the table at this point?”

“Yes.” His immediate response surprised her - what could he possibly have to hide at this point?

“Fair enough.” She made her last cut before moving to deposit the hair into his trash can, then moved back towards him so she could ruffle his hair once more, this time for stray bits, unusually gentle. Peter thought back to Gamora’s comment about romantic gestures, about signs of love. Was it stupid of him to hope that this was one of them, this quiet morning they were sharing? “You want help with your bandages, too?”

“You’re feeling generous today,” he teased. “That’d be great, thanks.” She eyed him expectantly, and he was unsure of what she was waiting for, until he realized she wanted him to take off his shirt. Letting out a shaky exhale, he pulled off his rumpled, ratty T-shirt and threw it in the general direction of his wardrobe. Despite her being the one to check on his injuries and test his physical capabilities, the sleepy, lackadaisical mood of the room was making it feel more intimate. “You sure this wasn’t just a ploy to get my shirt off?”

“You really need to stop thinking everyone wants to sleep with you, Quill,” she shot back, pulling out his med kit from underneath his mattress.

Peter chuckled, causing the rawness of the skin on his torso to flare up a little. He clutched at his side with a groan, leaning forward to rest his head onto her shoulder. “G’mora-a-a, it hurts.”

“Fearless leader, huh?” She patted him on the bare shoulder before slowly hoisting him back up. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he fixated on her face.

“Fearless leader’s you,” he said quietly. “It’s what we’re both here for, right? It’s like you told Natasha - balance.”

She nodded, moving to peel off his old bandages instead of answering. Gamora continued to work in silence, though she could feel Peter’s gaze - soft, warm, inviting. She wanted to lean into the touch, the way his hands came to rest on her hips to keep her steady despite her having perfect balance. His head was still tilted in her direction, as if he wanted to lean on her shoulder again. Deciding to test this theory, she shuffled a little closer, her knees nearly in his lap, as she cleaned his skin. It had almost been three weeks since the building had collapsed on them, but only now had the open wounds on his body closed up, his skin starting to heal over anew, slightly pink and delicate to the touch. She couldn’t help but remember that he would have healed much faster before they had killed Ego. Her own injuries were long gone, as if they had never happened.

“You’re thinkin’ pretty hard about something,” Peter commented after they’d been quiet for ten minutes. His chin was on her shoulder again, though his head was cocked sideways so he could continue watching her.

“Thinking you might need to ask Stark for a suit of armour at this point,” she replied easily, ripping off long strips of medical tape. “Then again, you’d probably hate to be seen in anything but those red leather jackets of yours.”

“Got that right.” Gamora could feel his laughter rumble through his entire body, causing her own shoulder to shake slightly in response. She had him hold the new bandages against his torso as she taped them down, running her fingers along his abdomen so she could check for air bubbles.

Satisfied, she leaned away from him. “All done.” She began packing away the kit, head down as she concentrated on her task, when she felt Peter’s lips brush against her face, kissing her right on the cheek, ever so gently.

“Thanks, Gamora.” He stood, stretching and cracking his knuckles as if nothing had happened, though she could feel her own heart hammering wildly in her chest, even as he left the room to begin his day.

* * *

Despite looking forward to their “date”, Gamora still felt the heavy sensation of impending demise settling deep into her bones, something, be it knowledge or instinct, that told her that Thanos wasn’t just inevitable, he was almost _here_. She had messaged Yondu in the middle of the night after Peter had fallen asleep, hoping that he hadn’t done anything stupid, like take off the way Nebula had done, or drowned himself in shitty beer. Thankfully, Rocket had apparently decided to distract him with some work, claiming that he had ways of improving Yondu’s headfin, though she knew Rocket had told her long ago there wasn’t much more he could do.

To Gamora’s surprise, Nebula seemed calmer than she was about the Black Order’s presence. For someone who had been so desperate to fight them not too long ago, her sister appeared to have matured, accepting that they couldn’t go in, swords and guns ablaze, and expect results. Maybe, as terrible as it sounded, finding out that the Ravagers had been taken out so easily by just one of them had made Nebula realize the gravity of the situation. She stepped more carefully, snapped a little less.

The two of them spent the morning with Mantis at the gym, teaching her how to fall. Her instincts were very good, for the most part, but she still had moments where she second-guessed herself and ended up tumbling to the ground in a heap. At the very least, she needed to learn how to fall with minimal injury.

“Again,” Nebula snapped as Mantis landed on her shoulder for the third time that morning. “A fall like that from an immense height, and you will shatter your entire arm. Does that sound _fun_ to you?” The other girl shook her head, somewhat terrified.

In a way, this was Nebula’s way of showing that she cared. If she didn’t like Mantis, she wouldn’t be putting this much effort into her training, probably would have never agreed to help in the first place. The anger in her eyes wasn’t out of dislike for Mantis, it was out of frustration that she couldn’t get what she wanted out of her so that she would be stronger. Still, it was difficult for Gamora to watch it happen. Mantis, like every other Academy student, had never grown up in the constant presence of the Mad Titan himself, could never dream of what he was capable of, or what he would be like should he get his hands on the completed Infinity Gauntlet. Maybe Nebula had been onto something when she had taken off from the school, though not for the right reasons.

As Mantis landed on her elbow and let out a cry of pain, it suddenly became clear to Gamora. It wasn’t about taking on Thanos alone. It was about taking the fight away from the school, away from all these people who didn’t deserve to be hurt. The Ravagers hadn’t even seen Yondu since he joined the Guardians, and yet they’d been punished, merely for being an associate of an associate. Men (of admittedly loose morals and questionable honour) had been killed, just to prove that Thanos would, and could, do it. What was to become of everyone else? The students that had never signed up for this war, the faculty that tried their damnedest to protect them. And then, the rest of the planet.

Suddenly, the thought of being “stronger together” sounded quite ominous. It threatened the very nature of this school, of this life that they lived. She and Nebula needed to find associates who could handle Thanos, not good-hearted, strong, but ultimately underpowered people like...well, like Peter. He was a surprisingly good tactician, incredible with his quad blasters, and quick on his feet, but Thanos would swat him like a fly.

Gamora hadn’t told him, but a new nightmare had become a part of her consistent rotation, one in which Thanos had arrived to Earth, ready for battle, and crushed the Guardians, one by one, under his feet before her very eyes. He would always save Peter for last. “Terrans,” he would sneer in her face. “Gamora, you disappoint me. Falling for a _Terran_. A primitive race, wouldn’t you say? _Weak_.”

“PETER!” she would scream, every single time, arms outstretched, but it was too late. She couldn’t reach him. Peter would be crumpled on the ground, oddly bloodless (the only thing that signified she was still dreaming), though there would be a smear of it across his face, the same dark red as his beloved jacket. When she finally managed to get to him, taking his rapidly-cooling hand in hers, all she would be able to sense was Thanos’s mocking laughter from above.

“Useless,” he would say. “Absolutely useless. Not just the boy, but _you_. You were my favourite daughter, Gamora, but no longer. You think yourself above being a weapon? You want to live the life of a stupid Terran? I _made_ you. I built you, every system in your body, every bit of metal that you feel, holding you together. And now, I’m taking you apart, piece by _piece_.”

It scared her every time, how realistic it felt. How plausible it was for Thanos to arrive and do such a thing. Gamora knew now that she would do anything to prevent it from happening, not just to the Guardians, but to everyone else at this school, everyone else on this planet.

Even if it meant leaving it behind.

* * *

Peter, meanwhile, had decided to spend most of his day with Yondu. It had been quite awhile since they had some quality “bro time”, as Peter enthusiastically called it, like their old Ravager days, when it had just been the two of them against the galaxy. He always thought fondly of the times they pulled pranks while living on the Eclector together, sneaking sleeping pills (or if they were feeling especially terrible, laxatives) into the food of the commanders that picked on them, or hiding razor blades in the captain’s seat cushions (Stakar was unfortunately too clever to fall for it, considering he had pulled similar practical jokes when he was younger).

Unfortunately for Yondu, it wasn’t a day for pranks, but rather, a day for homework. Peter was relatively caught up, thanks to Gamora’s insistence (as in, she told him she wouldn’t watch _Return of the Jedi_ until he had finished everything), but Yondu, ever the slacker, was astonishingly behind.

“You tryna torture me or somethin’?” Yondu grumbled, reaching for his eraser. “I got better things to do, Quill.”

“Like what?” Peter snorted. He was half-distracted by his tablet, having become rather obsessed with checking in on articles about the Guardians. As cute as Groot was, Peter wanted to talk to Pepper about taking legal action against people who published photos of the little one without his knowledge. Photo of Groot splashing in a birdbath? Adorable. Photo of Groot getting stuck under a pile of rubble and crying for help? Deplorable. “All you ever do around here is nap and chase girls.”

“Wha’d’ya mean, like _what_?” Yondu got to his feet, throwing his pencil down. From where Peter was sitting, he could tell Yondu hadn’t written a single word or number since they had sat down at the table thirty minutes ago. “Your _girlfriend_ ain’t tell you what’s happened?”

Peter frowned in confusion. He hadn’t really seen Yondu since he and the girls had gone to talk to Director Fury, but he had chalked it up to Yondu wanting to avoid everyone else, as he often did. “I’m gonna let that comment slide - what did Fury say?”

Yondu laughed, though it was cold, cruel, _mocking_ , even. “Thought you two shared everything. How about that? Quill, a bunch of our boys got killed. All ‘cause of Gamora’s daddy sending one of his minions after ‘em. _That’s_ what.”

Peter felt every muscle in his body seize up at the mere thought of Thanos. The Ravagers, as awful as they could be, didn’t deserve to die, especially not in whatever ruthless, cold-hearted manner that had befallen them. “Yondu, I...I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not blaming your girl,” he sighed, sitting back down. There was an exhaustion to him that Peter had never seen before, a stark contrast to his usual devil-may-care attitude, not a salacious smirk or lecherous grin in sight. “She ain’t the one forcin’ me to be a Guardian.”

“So you’re saying this is my fault.”

“Don’t be stupid, boy,” Yondu snapped. “I didn’t have to follow ya here, did I? I made my own choice, and now my boys have paid the price when they aren’t the ones buying. And now, I’m wonderin’ whether this was all worth it, and I’ll bet you Gamora’s thinkin’ the same thing. After all, she’s on the straight and narrow _now_ , but she’s getting people killed just by being on this here planet. How much longer you think she can take that kind of guilt?”

In lieu of answering, Peter carried on instead. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

“Probably to protect you or some shit,” Yondu said, rolling his eyes. “Me? I think you need to know, Quill, ‘cause you’re the one that’s gonna figure out how to get us outta this mess. What’re you gonna do about it, huh?”

Honestly, Peter didn’t want to think about it, what it could mean if Thanos was getting _that_ much closer. As Mantis had said to him, Gamora was the rational one - she probably had a million tactical plans dancing about in her brain, but all _he_ could think about was how much it would ruin everything that everyone had worked so hard for. The entire planet, decimated. It would make Ronan and Ego look like child’s play. “Kraglin - did he make it?”

“Krag’s okay. He’s a tough one,” Yondu said, cracking the slightest of smiles at the thought of his second-in-command. “I told him, he should be captain while I’m away. Didn’t listen to me. Now, he’s probably considerin’.”

“He’d be great at it,” Peter said gently. He folded his hands in his lap, unsure of what else to say that wasn’t already implied. All those faces he’d forgotten, men he hadn’t seen in at least two years. Though he had never been as close to Kraglin as both of them were to Yondu, he had also been something of a brother, another scrappy kid who enjoyed mischief and mayhem. Kraglin had enjoyed listening to Peter’s music, becoming particularly fond of a few songs, so much so that Peter would hear him humming under his breath while he worked. On days where Yondu had been too cranky, or as they got older, too busy to spend time with them, he and Kraglin would do their chores together, while Peter left his music running, turning up the volume as high as he could without annoying the other Ravagers.

Those men? Now dead and gone, or as Gamora had put it at the funeral so many weeks ago, “only one person who knew them at all”. Yondu, who had chosen to follow Peter here instead of remain back with them. He had picked one guy, someone who wasn’t even supposed to become a Ravager, was intended to be delivered to his father until Yondu had begged Stakar to let Peter stay, over the hundreds that he had led for a good five years in Stakar’s absence. Peter wondered how many of the remaining Ravagers would resent Peter for the rest of their lives.

* * *

Nebula, for all her feigned ignorance and apathy, could immediately tell when something was wrong with Gamora. They had spent years learning how to conceal emotions, and yet there would still be slips, a little twitch of her eye or a quirk of her mouth, that would reveal her true feelings. The moment Mantis had hit the mat wrong and Gamora had nearly jumped at the impact, Nebula knew it wasn’t just about the fall.

After Mantis left the gym to pick up lunch for the three of them, Nebula pulled Gamora aside, away from the barre where she was stretching. “What is it?”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to,” Gamora said evenly, rubbing at her forearm where Nebula had grabbed her.

“Don’t play dumb, sister, it doesn’t suit you,” Nebula hissed. “You had a pretty strong reaction to Mantis’s fall, but it wasn’t the thought of injury that scared you. So, don’t make me ask again.”

Gamora’s eyes flickered sideways, almost guilty, before she answered. “Our classmates, our _friends_. They aren’t ready for the kind of pain that Thanos will cause. You were right, Nebula. We shouldn’t be here. But not because we need to take on Thanos, but because we need to protect them _from_ Thanos. Those Ravagers were killed because of us, not Yondu. And here we are, at a school full of Earth’s mightiest heroes, _ripe_ for the taking. All it would take is one single ambush, and everyone here is gone. Dead. Then this planet falls, because no one will be left to protect them.” She let out a long sigh, throwing herself down onto the mat and flinging out her arms in front of her, unusually childlike in her movements. “I thought we had more time than this, Nebula. But we don’t.”

Nebula’s dark gaze fixated on her sister’s face. She looked shaken in a way she never had before. Gamora had been frightened a handful of times when they were under Thanos’s thumb - spooked at the first dead body she had laid eyes on, conflicted over her own power when she had been presented with the Godslayer, terrified when Thanos had first torn her apart. But now, there was more at stake than just her own life, and it left her paralyzed with fear.

“You want to leave.” It wasn’t a question. “After all your lectures about being better with other people by your side, about _teamwork_ , you wish to abandon them.”

“I want to _save_ them,” Gamora said fiercely. “We need to stop Thanos before he gets to Terra. We know him better than anyone, we grew up alongside his children, the Black Order. We can’t get the upper hand if we remain here, with too many people to worry about.”

“But it’s too late for you,” Nebula said mockingly, leaning over her sister and prodding her finger aggressively into Gamora’s chest. “You can’t detach yourself from these people, Gamora, you _love_ them. You’ve always been softer than me, always thinking about the innocent lives you’ve taken in the name of order.”

“Is that what you call Thanos’s treachery? _Order_?”

“I answered to Ronan, not Thanos, and look what became of him. Because of _you_ and your _precious_ Guardians!” Nebula shouted. Other students were starting to stare, wondering if they should get Ares and have him break up the inevitable fight before it began. “All because _you_ were so concerned - ”

“ _Billions_ of people were going to die, Nebula! Does that not matter to you? And it’s going to happen again, and again, unless we make this stop.” Tears threatened to leak from Gamora’s eyes, her voice cracking on her last words. She ducked into her elbow to hide her face, though she knew Nebula had already caught a glimpse of her expression. “And yes. Maybe I have become too attached to this planet, these people, to ever truly be objective,” she continued, trembling. “And that’s why we should at least consider the possibility of leaving to finish the job.”

Nebula exhaled slowly, her breath shaky. Though she would deny it to her grave, and it seemed as if that possibility were closer than ever, she was worried as well. “You are telling me what I said to you a month ago. Don’t have to ask me twice.” She finally settled onto the mat beside her sister, casting an almost shy glance down at the floor. “Please make up your mind at some point, will you? It’s exhausting to put up with your indecision.” Gamora let out a watery chuckle, reaching over to squeeze Nebula’s arm.

* * *

Peter arrived at the quad at 7:30 PM sharp, feeling a bit idiotic standing around alone. Gamora had messaged him two minutes ago that she would be late, as Groot apparently needed something from her, but part of him worried that she wasn’t going to show. It felt like it was a real date, but instead of a six-month anniversary, as they were calling it, there was a sense of it being the _first_ date.

After all, it wasn’t like their weekend trip into the city, or their movie nights, or even all the times they had fallen asleep together. They were meeting up instead of arriving together, and Peter had planned out something special, despite the fact they could have very easily just told Janet and the others any sort of lie and have them accept it as gospel. Peter wasn’t sure who he and Gamora were trying to fool at this point.

“Hey.” He turned to see Gamora standing there, who seemed to have taken the suggestion of “come as you are” quite seriously. She was in the clothes she had left the Milano in this morning, her “uniform” of a tank top and leggings, along with her red leather duster coat, possibly his favourite piece of clothing that she owned. He liked to think it was her subconscious decision to match him, to present a united front as leaders of the Guardians, or perhaps more intimately, her equivalent of couples’ matching T-shirts. “I managed to convince Groot that Mantis could help him. I don’t really know what he wanted, but it didn’t seem too urgent. So, what are we doing tonight?”

Peter smiled, reaching out for her hand. “You trust me?”

“Somehow, yes,” she said teasingly, sliding their palms together, tangling her fingers with his. They walked in silence for a couple minutes, occasionally gazing up at the night sky or glancing around them, before she spoke again. “Strange, isn’t it? How it all came down to this?”

“What do you mean?”

“You asked me if I had any regrets, doing this,” Gamora replied, squeezing his hand. “And thinking back, maybe I have just one. Not getting you know you better beforehand.”

“Imagine how much smoother missions would’ve gone if we knew how to talk to each other,” Peter chuckled.

“We’re never going to fully agree on tactics, Quill,” she said, though she was smiling and nodding as she said it. “I just mean...all the time we spent apart, never being curious beyond ‘how are you today’, never asking the right questions. When you almost died on Ego’s planet, I had nothing to say to you. How did I let that happen?”

“You weren’t in the business of heart-to-hearts, Gamora, that’s not a bad thing. It wouldn’t have been genuine if you had poked around any more than you did.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong again.” He turned to look at her, noting the melancholy in her eyes. “I think...I’ve always cared about you and the others, ever since we became a team. It was a matter of me not understanding how to show it.”

“Makes sense,” Peter nodded, swallowing. “Thanos...he taught you loyalty, not sentiment. Right?”

“His teachings have shaped me into who I am today,” Gamora said wistfully, her eyelids flickering, the sunset bathing her in orange light that left shadows dancing across her cheeks. She fell silent again, though Peter was half-hoping she would bring up the Ravagers, what Thanos had done to them. Unsurprisingly, she didn’t, though he had a feeling it was the cause of the crease in her brow.

Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at a completely vacant grove. It was an area of the campus that was undeveloped, where students - couples, mostly - went to for privacy. It wasn’t particularly special, aside from being relatively quiet and far away from the heavily populated areas of the school, so Gamora couldn’t help but gasp a little at the transformation. One particular area had a perfect semi-circular formation of trees, with branches that hung low enough to provide some shade during the day, and at night, created curtains of moonlight. Peter had borrowed the string lights Janet had used for the fundraiser festival and hung them along the tree trunks. He had an old gingham blanket laid out on the grass, one of its edges right up against the treeline, and on top of it, a wicker picnic basket and a box of -

Gamora laughed at the sight, letting go of Peter’s hand so she could cover her mouth. “Pizza.”

“I don’t know what your favourite food is, but I know you like pizza,” Peter admitted. He opened the basket and pulled out some drink cans and his holo-tab. “Classic date night - dinner and a movie?”

“In complete privacy,” she said, glancing around. There were some students spending their evening studying outside, but they were far enough that they wouldn’t be able to hear anything, and, once she and Peter were tucked away underneath the trees, wouldn’t be able to see them, either.

“We’ll take another selfie for Janet.”

“That’s not what I was thinking about.” She took his hand again and walked them over, once again, seemingly finishing her train of thought in her own head. Peter figured it would be best not to pry, half-hoping that this “date” (and he hated that he had to use mental quotation marks) would finally provide him some answers. To what, he couldn’t be sure yet.

They sat cross-legged as they began eating their dinner, knees brushing as Peter found himself fidgeting a little more than usual. Gamora had steered the conversation towards Guardians talk, as she often did, and how they needed to review the budget again as soon as the prize money would be presented to them in about three week’s time.

“We’ve got at least ten thousand units in the bag, hey?” Peter said, smiling at her.

“Plus another fifty for Best Team,” she added, holding out her soda can for him to knock his against. He complied, grinning wider.

After they had finished eating and chatting, Peter pulled up _Return of the Jedi_ , projecting it onto the thick canopy of branches above them. As they laid down, he was surprised to find Gamora instinctively curling up against him, despite not being in his cramped bed back on the Milano, her hair fanning out slightly onto his shoulder. She was otherwise quite silent as they watched, as she often was, enraptured in the stories of the space heroes. “You still think we’re like Han and Leia?” Peter whispered as they watched her free him from the carbonite.

Gamora didn’t reply until after Leia had finished kissing Han. “I wouldn’t mind it,” she said softly. If anything, her response left Peter with more questions than answers, but maybe he wasn’t as far off as he had originally thought. After the movie was over, she asked about other movies he had in mind for her, though he could only give her half-hearted answers, as it felt like his head was up among the stars. “Peter, are you okay?”

He was startled at the sound of his first name, though he tried his best not to show it. “I was just...thinking. There was this story I always wanted to tell you, but I never really thought you would care to hear it, but, y’know, now, you probably wouldn’t mind. It’s about my mom.”

Her hand came to rest on his bicep, her face partially buried in his shoulder. “Go on.”

“So, uh, when I was a kid, my mom and I, we had this tradition. She came from a somewhat religious family, and even though she wasn’t super religious herself, we went to church on Sunday mornings like she had done when she was a kid. And I didn’t really like going because I just wanted to play outside instead of sitting still for hours at a time. But she promised that we could do something fun on Sunday night if I went with her. Sometimes it’d be going to the playground, or Dairy Queen to get Dilly Bars, but my favourite thing to do was watch the stars. My mom drove this old rust bucket of a pickup truck, and it’s not the kind of car people expected someone like her to drive, but she _loved_ it. We’d go out to the open field about ten minutes from our house, and put out this blanket on the truck bed, turn on the Walkman, and watch the sky until midnight. Wasn’t the greatest idea for a kid my age on a school night, and I’d always be tired all Monday, but it was one of the best memories I had with her.”

“This very blanket?” Gamora asked, patting the gingham beneath them. It was definitely worn through, with a couple of mismatched patches where there had been holes, and what looked like a stubborn mustard stain somewhere near her hip. It was a blanket that had very clearly been well loved, and well taken care of.

“It was one of the things I had in my backpack when I - well. I took a lot of stuff from the house and put ‘em in there so I could bring it to the hospital. I thought that there had to be something that could help her get better.” Peter inhaled sharply. “Good thing I did, since it was the only thing I had on me when the Ravagers abducted me. Meant I could carry memories of her with me, take her out to space. She would’ve loved it.” He wiped his eyes on his sleeve, clearing his throat hastily as he resumed his story. “I remember, one night, I asked my mom where my nickname came from. I mean, now I kinda know it came from her sort of knowing who my dad _really_ was, and I don’t like _that_ part of it, but at the time, I had no idea. I said, ‘which star am I, Mom? Out of all the stars in the night sky, which one am I?’. And she told me, ‘baby, whichever one you want to be’.”

Gamora could feel tears burning in her eyes as well, turning her face to fully bury herself into Peter’s shoulder so he wouldn’t see. Out of all the things she had learned about him, one of the first she had ever known, long before they began their little game born of boredom, was his everlasting love and admiration of his mother. It was, in fact, one of the very first questions she had asked him, back on Knowhere - the significance of his Walkman, why he valued it so much. It also made her a little furious, thinking of Ego and his careless, blasé attitude towards Meredith and by extension, Peter himself. “Question,” she said, though she wondered if she was going to regret asking. “Do you still think of your father sometimes, even after what he did to you? To her?”

“A little bit less every day,” he answered, turning onto his side so they were face-to-face. “Though...a part of me wishes I had learned more about him. Like what he did to the other kids, or how he treated Mantis. She won’t tell me anything, and the fact that she won’t answer makes me worry that there’s more to it than just apathy. Or...how he managed to kill my mother despite knowing he was falling in love with her.” He swallowed loudly. “I can’t imagine having it in me to intentionally hurt someone that I loved.”

“But what if knowing made you more sympathetic? What if it changed your mind about killing him?”

“Nothing could change my mind about that. He killed her, and he almost killed all of you.” There was a ferocity in his expression that told her he would have never given it a second thought. “Um, question.” He cleared his throat. “What’s the happiest you’ve ever been?”

It felt like a sudden mood whiplash. Was that really what Peter wanted to know, right in this moment? Their faces were so close that Gamora could count his eyelashes, see the hints of teardrops glossing them over. She wanted to wipe the dampness on his cheeks away. “There’s no specific thing I can think of. Anytime I’m with you and the others, I suppose. Even when we fight.”

He cracked a weak smile, reaching for his Walkman as he spoke. “I’m glad that we can be that for you. I mean, we’re all like that for each other, right? I mean, we’re a pretty freaking weird group of people, but we somehow managed to make a pretty good team. The ‘Best Team’, even!”

Peter got to his feet, holding out his hand for Gamora to take, pulling her up to join him. With her nod of permission, he slid the headphones neatly over her ears and pressed play, watching her face carefully. The music started off slow, almost melancholy, as he took her hands up once again and began turning them in slow, even paces. They hadn’t danced since the hotel room, two whole months ago, before Nebula had disappeared, before their botched mission, before all the understandings and misunderstandings in between. He leaned in closer, his mouth ghosting over her ear, singing softly. “ _Stop...the world...tonight...oh, let me stay...in your arms...forever.._.” Tentatively, Gamora let her head rest against his chest, a motion that would have felt so foreign before, now a comfort, his steady heartbeat drumming beneath her cheek. “And _where...all my dreams...start to spin...love...oh, love...begins.._.” He trailed off, pulling away from her so he could look at her face. There was a different sort of sadness on his face this time, like a resignation to something she couldn’t recognize.

“Peter?”

“When were you planning on telling me about the Ravagers?”

“Peter,” she said again, forlornly. “I...that wasn’t mine to tell. It was _Yondu’s_ men.”

“Killed by _Thanos’s_ employees.” Though she expected him to sound angry, or at the very least, frustrated, he sounded just about as emotionally drained as he looked. “You’re going to do it, aren’t you? Leave the school, permanently.”

“I don’t _want_ to, but maybe I don’t have a choice,” Gamora frowned. “You said once that I came out of my upbringing wanting to help people, and this is how I can help. Taking the fight elsewhere, so Thanos can face Nebula and I directly.”

“That’s not a fight, that’s a suicide mission,” he said fiercely. “Gamora, you’re going against what you’ve been telling Nebula this whole time. You’ve made it pretty clear that you agree with me - we aren’t friends, we’re family. We’re capable of more when we’re with each other. All you’re going to accomplish by going against Thanos alone is get yourself killed faster, and _maybe_ delay him a little bit longer before he gets here.”

“I never said I _liked_ the idea of leaving,” Gamora protested. “But maybe it has to be done. And I’m not asking you to come with me, because let’s be real here, Peter, you won’t be able to help at all.”

“Right, because I’m the weak one.”

“Because you didn’t train like Nebula and I have!” she yelled, fully yanking herself away from him, taking off the headphones and shoving them into his chest. “Stop thinking that I see you as an inferior being, Peter. It’s a matter of different skill sets, and - ”

“ - no, you see, I got it all wrong! Back on Ego, I thought you wanted me to keep being Terran so you’d be the stronger one, but you asking me if I regret killing him - you _want_ me to have my Celestial powers back, don’t you? Otherwise you think I’m useless!”

“Stop putting words in my mouth,” she hissed. “And stop talking yourself down so I’ll talk you back up. I’m not here to make you feel better about yourself.”

“Then what _are_ you here for, huh?” Peter looked triumphant as Gamora had finally fallen silent, arms folded across her chest in defiance. “What were all those words you threw at me? Despicable, dishonourable, faithless, _insufferable_? Is that what you look for in a friend? What happened to all that when we started this, this _fake_ relationship of ours?”

“I don’t have to listen to this. And I don’t have to answer to you,” she said, her voice dangerously low. “If you insist on acting like a child, it’ll make it _that_ much easier for me to leave.”

For the first time in ages, Gamora felt like she wanted to run away from him. This had never been a good idea from the start, had it? This relationship ruse, all just a prolonged extension of how she had become too comfortable on this planet, with these people. Holding his hand, chatting for hours, sharing his bed, tentatively flirting with him in the hopes he would understand her intentions. Teaching Mantis how to fight, training with Drax, combating her worst fears with Rocket, looking after Groot - every single moment she had spent with the others was another moment in which she hesitated about leaving to finish the job. She loved them too much.

Loved _him_ too much.

“Gamora,” Peter sighed, reaching for her. “That was...I shouldn’t have said it. But can you really blame a guy for wanting to know?”

“You’re asking me what I have to _gain_ out of your friendship? As if this is just some transaction?” She laughed hollowly, sending shivers down his spine. “Then let me turn this around on you. I barely remember our first meeting, but I remember how insistent you were on tailing me ever since. You made it pretty clear that you saw me as another potential notch on your bedpost. Are you sure that’s not still the case?”

He pulled away again, rage burning in his usually sweet, gentle eyes. Gamora stepped back, somewhat fearful. “Is that what you’ve been thinking this whole time? That I’ve been doing all this with the endgame of _sleeping_ with you? Are we really having this argument?”

She let out a long, unsteady breath, her arms falling to her side, limp. “All we ever seem to do is fight,” Gamora said resignedly, echoing the words Nebula had said to her on Ego’s planet. “Maybe this doesn’t make us family after all. Maybe we’re just a group of people who have spent too long holding on to each other, and we can’t figure out how to let go.”

“If that’s what you need to tell yourself to feel better about leaving.” Peter sat back down, leaning forward to wrap his arms around his bent knees. She had always thought of him as being tall, broad, somewhat physically imposing (until Drax came around), but now, she had never seen him look so small. “Gamora...if you want to leave, I’m not going to stop you. I’ll want to try, but it’s your life, your choice, not mine. But to be honest? I don’t really know what I’m gonna do without you. And _if_ you leave, we’ll probably never see each other again. You know that, right?”

His head came to rest on his knees, giving her the option of walking away without him watching her go. He could feel his breath coming in shallow, as if he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs to go on. To his surprise, he felt Gamora kneeling next to him, her arms wrapping around his entire body, her hair flung haphazardly across his back, her face buried against his. She smelled like her shampoo - nothing floral or fruity, but something more woodsy, musky. Warm. And her arms, strong as ever, holding him almost too tight, yet just enough to keep him together. Because yeah, maybe he was starting to fall apart.

His legs went slack against the ground, and, feeling brave, Peter slowly pulled Gamora onto his lap, her knees braced on either side of his hips. She pressed her face into his neck, and his went to her shoulders, his arms around her waist, inhaling slowly. “Hey. Do...do you have _any_ idea how much I care about you?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” she replied softly. “But I think we’re both too afraid to know the answer.”

“Especially if you leave,” he said, lifting his head so he could look at her. “Maybe it’s better we don’t know.”

“Or maybe,” she said slowly, “we’ll just...know, and choose not to believe it.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he laughed weakly.

“Peter...I’ll tell you when I make my decision. But it’s going to have to be soon. I can’t let it happen again.”

He wisely didn’t tell her that Thanos could very well be killing hundreds of thousands of people right now, and they would never know. All he wanted to feel was her hands interlaced against his back, her full weight resting against his chest, trusting that he would keep her steady. It was stupid, but he felt as if the moment he let go, she would leave and never come back.

They stayed intertwined for what felt like forever and not enough. After all of this, Peter felt like he had failed. All his improvised speeches, his insistence on teamwork, all the missions and jobs in the world, none of which would convince her to stay when it came down to the endgame, the biggest endeavour of her life. And he’d failed in another way, too - being too cowardly to tell her how he felt. They were close, _so_ close, to saying it out loud, that he was certain if he kissed her now, she would respond in kind, but what good would that do if she were leaving anyways? It was like he had said to Yondu so long ago - he wasn’t in the business of getting hurt. Besides, it would be selfish of him to think that her feelings for him alone would convince her not to go. He was important to her, that much he knew, but he also knew that in a way, Gamora felt as if defeating Thanos had become her true purpose in life, after everything she had done under his rule. _As the stupid saying goes_ , Peter thought as he slowly dropped his arms away from her waist. _If you love something, set it free. And I do. I_ do _love her._

Gamora got to her feet, though not before kissing Peter on the cheek so quickly that he wasn’t sure he hadn’t just imagined it. She wiped at her eyes despite them looking relatively dry, smiling at him tentatively. “We should head back now, it’s almost midnight. Director’s not gonna be happy.”

“Right,” he said, clearing his throat for what felt like the fiftieth time that night. He quickly packed everything up and stood, allowing Gamora to take his hand and walk them back to the dorms.

“So, what’s the happiest you’ve ever been?” she asked.

“Probably when we first became a team.” This surprised her - she had been expecting another memory of his mother. “It was like everything falling into place. Like I didn’t realize how much I needed other people until we all came together.”

“We were a disaster back then,” Gamora chuckled. “But...I know what you mean. Like we were biding our time until we found each other.”

Once they stopped outside of Gamora’s door, Peter turned to face her, taking both her hands in his. “So. When you look back at this, this, fake relationship of ours. What we’re like now, what we were like before. How much of it are you gonna take with you?”

Her eyes cast downwards to their joined hands, wondering how many more chances she would get to hold them. Looking back up, she opened her mouth to answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, they sort of confessed, didn't they? [Here](https://open.spotify.com/track/4c5vOojjnRgeLQmITL7l7b) is the song they danced to until it all went kind of sideways. 
> 
> Next chapter is a bit of fun - it's going to be entirely flashbacks (aka Gamora's answer to Peter's question), detailing how they met and became the team we know and love in _this_ mash-up universe of mine. I hope you guys will like it, since it sort of reimagines the events of both movies.
> 
> As you might have noticed, I finally updated the chapter count so y'all know how much longer we have to go - three more chapters plus an epilogue. Thank you so much for the comments and kudos!


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Gamora meet, fight, and get to know each other for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Flashback Friday, I guess? I promise I didn't time it this way for the stupid joke, it just happened.

_“And what do we have here?”_

_Peter jumped at the sudden voice coming from behind him. He’d been sitting in this rather exuberant plush chair for so long he was starting to get cramps, and his left foot had fallen asleep. A man with a shock of white hair came into view, perhaps one of the strangest men Peter had ever seen, and he’d met plenty of odd aliens here and there. “Um, Peter Quill, sir. Star-Lord.”_

_The man held out his hand to shake. “Of course, Mister Quill. You came highly recommended. Taneleer Tivan, also known as The Collector. I’m the headmaster here at the Cosmic Conservatory. Delighted to make your acquaintance.” As he shook Peter’s hand, he glanced down absent-mindedly, only to jump at the sight of Peter’s scraped knuckles. “Red blood!” he exclaimed. “You must be Terran.”_

_“Yes, sir,” Peter replied, growing more uncomfortable by the second. He shifted around in the chair, wondering when Tivan was going to let go. “Listen, I just needed to get away from the Ravagers for a while, and I was told the Conservatory accepts students of all backgrounds, even those without, uh, legal records.”_

_“Of course, of course,” Tivan murmured, running a thumb across one of Peter’s knuckles before finally letting go. He moved to stand behind his desk, fingers splayed across its surface as he stood tall and proud. “Here at the Conservatory, we have all sorts around here. Even a few students that are, sad to say, the last of their kind.”_

_Despite his discomfort, Peter still felt a sense of remorse for the ones Tivan spoke of. He might have been the only Terran this far out into the galaxy, but he knew he wasn’t really alone, not in that sense. “Sorry to hear that, sir. So, uh, where do I sign up? For classes, I mean.”_

* * *

_It had been a long few first days for Peter after getting his schedule sorted out, along with room and board. He didn’t have a lot of units left after leaving the Ravagers, but Tivan didn’t seem all that concerned. He didn’t really seem that concerned about anything, aside from casually mentioning he’d be grateful if Peter provided a blood sample, maybe a hair or two._

_For the most part, he kept his head down, didn’t make too much eye contact. He kept his knuckles wrapped up, his injuries obscured, so other students would assume he was Xandarian, and leave him be. After all, Peter wasn’t_ really _here to be a student, he was after that stupid orb. One last job, and he’d have enough money to sever ties from the Ravagers forever._

_He didn’t like the idea of leaving Yondu behind, but Yondu was the captain now. He wouldn’t abandon his boys for Peter, no matter how close they were. He had a duty to uphold, men to look after. Peter was just the skinny kid they’d picked up off Terra who managed to get a black eye less than an hour after he had joined them._

_Once the week had started, so did Peter’s classes. He’d gotten hopelessly lost on his way to his afternoon class, despite spending his weekend going over the map and walking around campus. Somehow, he found himself near the gyms instead of the science wing. Groaning, he stashed his map back into his knapsack in frustration and decided to walk into the gym and ask one of the instructors for directions instead._

_As he approached the entrance, he could hear the loud shouts of students - two voices, female, grunting and yelling, along with what sounded like bodily impact - and the cheers of others who were probably watching them._ Fight training, huh _, Peter thought._ Neat. _He opened the door, attempting to slide in neatly without being seen, and promptly brained himself on the corner, because_ whoa _._

_Two girls were in the middle of the room on a set of elevated mats in a mimicry of a wrestling ring, clearly the ones fighting in front of everyone else, who had them surrounded along the perimeter of the small gymnasium. One of the girls was Kree, notable because of her blue skin and violet eyes, filled with fiery rage. Like many of her race, she was tall and broad-shouldered, muscular beyond compare. However, she was being pinned to the ground by another girl unlike any Peter had ever seen before. Vibrant green skin, long dark red ombre hair, and silver markings on her beautifully fierce face. She wasn’t petite, but she also wasn’t as tall or physically intimidating as the Kree girl, what with her tiny waist and slender, but muscular arms and legs. While the Kree girl was holding a giant spear, this girl only held a small knife, its entire length no longer than her forearm._

_The students standing near Peter snickered at his plight, and he felt his face grow warm._ So much for keeping a low profile _, he thought sullenly, though he was distracted once more when the girl turned to look in his direction, probably wondering what the laughter was about. Her dark gaze fixated on him for a moment in confusion, before rolling her eyes and turning her attention back to the Kree girl. However, her luck seemed to have run out - having been distracted by Peter, the girl found herself flipped onto her back the moment she’d looked back. She let out a feral snarl as the Kree girl lifted her spear over her head with a satisfied cry._

 _Peter’s heart jumped in his throat, wondering if he’d somehow walked into a fight club to the death instead of just a typical gym class, when the girl slid her legs out from under, wrapped them around the Kree’s head, and twisted._ Hard _. With another yelp of surprise, the Kree girl hit the mat with an impact that bounced off the gymnasium walls and finally slumped in defeat, panting. “I give,” she gasped, clutching at her neck._

 _The girl stood, satisfied, twirling her knife between her fingers for a moment before tucking it back into her belt. She turned to look in the direction of the instructor and nodded. “I’d invite a bigger challenge for next time, but I doubt you have anything of real work for me,” she said. Her voice was surprisingly melodious, yet just as strong as she was. She leaped down from the mat and walked towards Peter, causing the crowd to immediately part. She didn’t spare him a single glance as she breezed out the door._ Damn _, Peter thought._ What a girl.

* * *

_Another week passed before he saw her again, this time in the cafeteria. It was somewhat serendipitous, as Peter had heard rumours that she hung around Ronan, another one of the few Kree students here, who was also thinking of stealing the orb. She was sitting at a table with him, a dark-skinned boy with ice blue eyes and a visible brain implant, and a blue-skinned girl with almost entirely black eyes. Their heads were ducked together, talking quietly, until Ronan had let out a sinister chuckle and got up, causing the other boy and the blue-skinned girl to follow, exchanging looks of worry. The girl remained behind, glancing up at her companions briefly with a nervous flicker of her eyes before looking back at her tray with a resigned sigh._

_Peter picked up his lunch tray and went to make his move when he heard a loud, obnoxious laugh. He turned towards the source of the noise and was startled to find himself staring at what appeared to be a raccoon and a tree, who had joined him at his table for some reason. “Don’t even try it, fly boy. She ain’t interested.”_

_“What...what are you talking about?”_

_“Gamora.” The raccoon jerked a thumb in her direction. The girl appeared to be pushing her food around with her fork, no longer hungry. “You know who she is?”_

_“I - no, no I don’t.”_

_“Daughter of Thanos. That name you gotta know.” It sent chills down Peter’s spine. Yes, that he did. “She’s the deadliest woman in the whole d’ast galaxy. You hit on her, you’re gonna lose the appendage you’re thinkin’ with.”_

_“I wasn’t gonna flirt with her,” Peter protested, though he had been thinking about it. She was one of the prettiest girls he’d ever seen, not to mention possibly the physically strongest. He had never been so impressed by someone so quickly. Still, it wasn’t what he was after. “I need information about Ronan.”_

_“Don’t tell me it’s about the orb,” the raccoon said, his voice dropping a few octaves. “How many people are after this thing?”_

_“Not a lot, if you keep quiet,” Peter said, eyes narrowing. “Stay outta my business, okay? I don’t need a raccoon sniffin’ around.”_

_“What’s a raccoon?” he said, looking genuinely confused._

_“‘What’s a raccoon’? It’s what you are, stupid,” Peter snapped. He was getting incredibly frustrated at this point, and it didn’t help that the tree kept waving at him with a giant dopey grin on his face._

_“The name’s Rocket. Ain’t no thing like me, ‘cept me. Don’t ever call me a - whatever - again.” Rocket jabbed a thumb towards the tree. “This is Groot.”_

_“I am Groot,” he said enthusiastically._

_“Yeah, yeah, he just said so,” Peter grumbled, standing up. He’d had enough. He walked over to Gamora, set his tray down, and slid onto the seat across from her in one fluid movement. Her eyes flickered upwards, and there was a sense of vulnerability, like a spooked animal, before it was quickly replaced with annoyance. “Hi. Peter Quill. People call me Star-Lord.”_

_She huffed, immediately irritated. “What do you want?”_

_“You looked like you could use some company. Your friends kinda left you behind.” Peter put on his most winning smile. She didn’t look too impressed._

_“They aren’t my friends,” she replied. “And you aren’t going to be one, either, so leave me alone.”_

_“That Ronan guy in particular seems pretty intimidating,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “Why do you hang around those people if they’re not your friends?”_

_“You must be new here,” Gamora said dryly, finally setting her fork down. “Ronan works for my father, as does Korath. And Nebula, she’s my adopted sister. Will you go now?”_

_“You’re not like them, are you,” Peter persisted. “Whatever it is they’re planning on doing, you’re just, what, sitting it out? Doesn’t seem like the kind of thing Ronan would let go. More like the kind of guy who’s all, ‘I wanna take over the world and blah blah blah, you’re gonna help me’, y’know?”_

_“Charming,” she said snidely. “You seem to think you know him well enough, so why are you asking_ me _about him?” She looked as if she were considering picking up her fork again so she could stab him with it._

_“A Ravager never tells,” Peter winked. She looked taken aback at this, like she had expected him to simply be a common criminal. Well, that was rude. “Look, can I tell you a secret? No, don’t answer that, I’m gonna tell you anyways. I’m here for one thing, and one thing only, and I’m guessing you know what I’m talking about. And Ronan clearly knows something about it that I don’t, so why don’t you fill me in on the details?”_

_“And why would I do that?” Gamora had picked up her fork again, twirling it around in her plate menacingly. He wasn’t aware that sort of thing could even be_ done _so threateningly._

_“Because if you do, I’ll take you with me when I leave, and you won’t have to hang around this crapsack anymore.”_

_She looked alarmed at this. “How could you tell I wanted to leave?” she hissed._

_Peter merely shrugged in response. “You didn’t choose to be here with those people, I can tell that much. So, what’s the deal with the orb?”_

_She cast a glance around the room, ensuring that her companions were truly gone, before sighing, slumping forwards onto her arms in defeat. “It’s not_ just _an orb. Inside, there’s a…”_

* * *

_Peter honestly wasn’t sure how he had gotten here. It seemed like one minute he’d been sneaking into the Collector’s private rooms, seeking out the orb amongst what appeared to be hundreds, if not thousands, of artifacts and, well, collector’s items, and the next, he was being shipped off to the Kyln, the Collector shrieking about how he should have never trusted, quote unquote, “outsiders”._

_It wasn’t the worst place Peter had ever been (some seedy pubs that Yondu had dragged him to came to mind), but he suspected he would feel a little less threatened if not for his companions, or rather, his assailants. Rocket and Groot had come running after him the second they realized he was going to snatch out the orb from under Ronan’s nose. When Gamora had seen Peter sprinting out of the Collector’s quarters like he was on fire, pursued by Rocket and Groot, she had misunderstood and thought he had betrayed her to help them instead, resulting in her attacking him and screaming about dishonour. Honestly, Peter had kind of blocked the whole thing out of his memory once Groot had started entangling Gamora in his branches while Rocket tasered him about fifty times in a row (alright, three. It hurt like it was fifty, okay?). And now, they were all in prison together, because that apparently made sense._

_So, really, it was probably in Peter’s top 5 (bottom 5?) least favourite places to be._

_A part of him told himself to keep his distance from the others. They didn’t owe each other anything, and although he had promised Gamora he would spring her out of the Conservatory, there was no telling what she would do now that she was convinced he had double-crossed her. After all, she knew he was a Ravager - a thief, a con artist, a no-good pirate - and probably assumed it was in his nature, that he couldn’t be trusted. She certainly wouldn’t be the first girl to come to that realization._

_However, there was something incredibly disturbing about watching a bunch of grown men, twice her size, snarling in her face, telling her they wanted to tear her apart, limb by limb. Whether it was for her own crimes, or that of her father and his employees, they seemed entirely serious about killing her, along with some other threats that made Peter shudder. As far as he knew, Gamora was around his age - barely past twenty years old, already world weary, tirelessly desperate for an out. She clearly was more moral than her so-called “family”, the fear in her eyes as she described Ronan’s plans had told Peter that much. The corrupt members of the guard didn’t seem to care, though, looking just as ready for her blood as the other prisoners were._

_“Dammit,” Peter mumbled to himself, watching as one of the guards, who was probably old enough to be her grandfather, patted Gamora down a little too thoroughly. She hissed at him, but knew that any sort of retaliation would be an excuse to kill her without moment’s notice. Peter, however, didn’t have that sort of reputation around here, not yet, anyways. He jogged over to them, knowing he couldn’t be a bystander any longer. “Hey, hey, you wanna leave her alone?”_

_“What’re you gonna do about it?” the guard sneered. Without giving it a second thought, Peter reeled back and punched the guy straight in the nose, knocking him to the ground instantaneously. He reached for Gamora to pull them both away, but the guard pulled out his stun gun and promptly jabbed Peter in the calf, resulting in him falling down, too, electricity jolting through every muscle in his body (a sensation he had gotten too used to after his encounter with Rocket). “You BASTARD! Stay down!”_

_The guard got to his feet and stumbled away, waving off the others who approached him and asked if they should do anything further about Peter. To Peter’s surprise, Gamora remained behind, kneeling down next to him. “That was stupid of you,” she informed him._

_“You’re welcome,” he grumbled, though admittedly she was right. She pulled him to his feet, then turned as if to walk away. He immediately reached for her arm and tugged. “Hey, I’m not letting you out of my sight. Not when there’s so many people around here trying to kill you.”_

_“Let me go, Quill,” Gamora snapped, yanking her arm out of his grasp. “I’m heading to my cell. I have no desire to be around others any longer.” Peter was pretty sure she was looking at the Sakaaran who appeared to be attempting to bite off his own fingers. “Besides, I’m certainly more capable of fighting people off than you.”_

_“At least let me stay outside, then.”_

_“You really think_ you’re _my last line of defense?” she scoffed. Her chin was held high, eyes hard. “When you said you’d help me get out of the Conservatory, I didn’t realize this was what you meant.”_

_“Well, if you had let me explain myself instead of just jumping me, we wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place,” he shot back._

_“So this is my fault?”_

_“I’m just saying, if your attitude was a little more ‘let’s talk about this’ instead of ‘stab, stab, those are_ my _terms’, then we wouldn’t be in freaking prison!”_

_“If you’re so irritated with me, then why are you bothering to protect me?” she yelled, shoving a finger in his chest. The other prisoners were starting to watch them, though Gamora suspected it was because they wanted to see who was going to kill the other first. “I swear, if this is some stupid, harebrained scheme to seduce me - ”_

_“What? No!” Peter exclaimed, though admittedly there was something oddly exhilarating about her shouting at him. Maybe he needed to get his brain checked for...something, that could_ not _be a good sign. “Look, we agreed to get the orb away from the Collector and away from Ronan, right? Having it in lockup here doesn’t count, not when we know what it can really do. And I promised to help you get out of the Conservatory, although I gotta say, the Kyln? Not what I meant.” The corners of her mouth twitched in what he imagined was meant to be the beginnings of a smile. “I always keep my promises, when they’re to girls who can kill me with their bare hands if I don’t.”_

 _“My hands? I could kill you with a single fingernail if I wanted to,” she said, her voice so low that it made him shiver. She eyed him up and down, considering. “Fine. You can keep me company. But only_ inside _the cell, since I don’t trust you won’t leave. And you’re sleeping on the floor.”_

_“Wasn’t planning on sharing your bunk,” he replied cheerfully, grateful that she seemed to have relented. Maybe this was the beginnings of a beautiful partnership. That is, if she didn’t gut him in his sleep._

_That night, Peter found himself looking up from the floor at Gamora, curled up on her bunk. She was practically in the fetal position, tightly tucked into herself, her hands partially over her head as if to protect her skull. He didn’t know much about Thanos or his children, but he suspected her childhood couldn’t have been pleasant, resulting in her odd sleeping habits._

_His consideration of her was rudely interrupted when a grey-skinned alien with red markings and biceps larger than Peter’s thighs decided it was a good time to break in. Damn, he’d been hoping to get a decent night’s sleep for once. Of course, the moment Peter had lunged for the man he would later know to be Drax the Destroyer (and even later still, an admirer of good practical jokes), Gamora had sprung up from her tiny bed, and with a feral shout, pinned Drax to the ground in one swift move._

_“Don’t even think about it,” she hissed. She had somehow grabbed his knife and turned it back on him, pressing the tip into his throat._

_“Your father killed my family, and my sweetheart, Hovat,” Drax snarled, anguished, his breath coming out in short pants as Gamora pressed further. “They are dead, because of him. I shall kill one of his in return.”_

_Peter, who had half-collapsed against the wall, clutching at his bruised torso where Drax had punched him, scrambled forwards onto his hands and knees. “Hey, if you’re trying to get to Thanos, this isn’t the way to do it.” Drax turned to fix his cold, ice-blue stare on Peter’s face. “She betrayed Ronan, so they’re gonna come after her. Be patient, and you’ll have the big guy in no time. Killing her now is only gonna do their job for them.”_

_Gamora’s brow furrowed, staring him down, and Peter looked at her pleadingly, hoping that she understood he was only trying to subdue Drax. Seconds later, a moment of clarity passed over her face, and she turned back to look at Drax, who had finally gone slack, arms collapsing against the metal floor with a loud clang. She slowly moved off him and joined Peter against the wall, though she kept the knife pointed at Drax’s face. “Apparently, your talent is in talking in excess until your opponents give up. Who knew?” she murmured. He chuckled softly in response, relieved. At least they seemed to have finally reached an understanding._

_“You two are tryna leave the Kyln, aren’t you?” They jumped at the sudden sound of another voice. Even Drax leaped up to his feet, fists up in the air, ready for another fight. Rocket was standing just outside the open cell door, arms folded, Groot hovering by his side. “Don’t trust ‘em, man,” he said to Drax. “They’re gonna bolt as soon as they get the chance. Trust me, I got experience with these losers.”_

_“They will let me follow, or else,” Drax said threateningly. Despite Gamora holding the knife to his throat again, he seemed unperturbed. Peter was impressed. “You will not leave without me, murderess.”_

_“And you ain’t leaving without us, either,” Rocket snapped. “You got us into this mess, Quill. And you’re gonna need guys like us, me with the know-how and Groot with the muscle, if you wanna make it out. I’ve escaped twenty-two prisons, this one’s no different. Hell, I’d like to see you try without me.”_

_“Oh, great. I wasn’t aware this was now a team effort,” Peter groaned, rubbing at his face with the heel of his palms. This was all just supposed to be for the damn orb, so he could get away from the Ravagers and start a new life on his own. Instead, he had apparently picked up a new pack of misfits along the way._

_“I would never be on a team with the likes of you,” Gamora snarled, waving the knife around haphazardly. Peter was slightly offended she had included him in her statement - if anything, they were the only two that_ should _be leaving together. “We get the orb back, we escape, and that’s it. Understood?”_

_The tree shrugged, a nonchalant grin on his face. “I am Groot.”_

* * *

_Okay, so Peter was pretty sure he needed to stop asking himself the infamous question, “what’s the worst that could happen?”, because for him, it went a little like this:_

_After making their escape from the Kyln with the orb, they had been at a loss for what to do with it. Gamora had suggested bringing it to Nova Prime, to which Rocket and Peter both vehemently protested. She then ordered Peter to fly the group (she refused to acknowledge they had become something of a team) to Knowhere, as she knew of a safehouse they could hide out in until they finally made up their minds about the next move. To their dismay, both Yondu and Nebula were on Knowhere when they arrived (Nebula, because she apparently had a sixth sense when it came to her sister, and Yondu had been tracking Peter ever since he was thrown into prison,_ again _). The group retreated, rather stupidly, to the Conservatory, where they fought with Ronan, nearly blew up the entire school in the process, lost possession of the orb, and to Peter’s horror, found out that Ronan was now heading to Terra, seeking petty revenge against him._

_This was where it went kind of sideways (well, more than before). Peter should have known the Milano wasn’t exactly acquainted with Earth’s atmosphere. But, well, he didn’t, and now they were spiraling towards the ground._

_Drax, Rocket, and Yondu had all been knocked out for about five minutes by the time Peter managed to reach Gamora, who was clutching onto Nebula for dear life. Nebula appeared to be grinding her teeth in pain, passing Gamora off to Peter so she could try to crawl her way back towards the cockpit, maybe use the wiring in her body to gain control of the ship again. Groot was growing at a rapid pace, using his branches and vines to create little “cots” for their unconscious teammates._

_“Quill,” Gamora gasped, her nails digging so tightly into his arms that she was drawing blood. “QUILL!” Suddenly, she threw herself on top of him, flattening them both into the floor. His face was ground painfully into the metal as one of the benches broke free from the Milano’s walls, sailing over their heads and out the large hole in the ceiling._

_Peter started to get to his hands and knees when he felt the sudden sensation of suction yanking him upwards. With a pained yell, Gamora managed to grab one of the tether lines and secure it around his waist, dragging him back down. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into him, bracing her against the floor. “G’mora,” he panted. He could feel blood trickling into his hairline from where he had been slammed about, though he was more concerned about the way she was shaking underneath him. “Thank...thank you. Are you okay?”_

_“I...I really am gonna die among my friends, aren’t I?” She let out a weak chuckle, turning her face away from the wind._

_“Well,” he said with a soft laugh of his own. “We had a pretty good run, didn’t we? The last...what, week we’ve known each other?”_

_“Has it really only been a week?” Gamora tipped her head backwards, attempting to catch a glimpse of Nebula, but the angle was too impossible. Another piece of equipment went flying over their heads, grazing her chin. She immediately tilted her face back down, eyes wide in terror._

_Before Peter could answer, the two of them found themselves scooped up by Groot’s extended branches and pulled towards the others. Nebula had also become entangled, though she didn’t look too pleased about it, attempting to wrench her arm free so she could reach her knife. To their astonishment, Groot had formed a giant sphere inside the cockpit, weaving his branches together so tightly that they could no longer see the walls of the ship. “Groot,” Rocket said sleepily, blinking himself awake. “Groot, what’re you...no, you can’t - ”_

_“What’s he doing?” Peter asked worriedly. He had never once heard Rocket sound so frantic before._

_“Groot, you can’t, you’ll die,” Rocket continued, as if he hadn’t heard Peter. He only had eyes for Groot, who was smiling at him reassuringly. “Why are you doing this?”_

_Groot extended one tiny branch to wipe the tears that were forming in Rocket’s eyes. “We...are…Groot.”_

* * *

_The five of them (well, four of them. Groot was merely a twig in a clay pot at the moment) stood on the loading ramp of the Milano, staring out at the rest of the campus. Peter was honestly in disbelief after everything that had transpired, after the life he’d lived, the life his companions had lived, that they were truly here, back on his home planet, the newly christened Guardians of the Galaxy, and the latest recruits of Avengers Academy._

_For the most part, everyone had accepted their roles and purpose on the team. Drax was happy to be the muscle, ready to fight the good fight, and though he claimed to defer to Peter, he did continue to question his every move. Rocket primarily worked on the ship and weapon development, accepting every bit of scrap metal thrown his way, though he refused to accept any sort of help from Stark (“What can that humie do that I can’t? Pah!”). Groot, for the most part, spent his time hanging out in his pot and asking Peter to leave his Walkman behind so he could dance. Yondu and Nebula had been thoroughly chastised by the Director for their past crimes, more harshly than he had towards the others. So, they were grounded for now, something Yondu had shrugged at and Nebula had sneered at - no surprises there. As for Gamora…_

_“Hey, what’re you doing? Milano’s that way,” Peter called at Gamora’s retreating back. She turned stiffly to face him. “We’re supposed to be wheels up in ten, we’ve got a job. An actual paying job!”_

_“Is that what we’re doing here?” Gamora snapped, avoiding his eyes. “Pretending to be a team of heroes, while we avoid the real problems at hand?”_

_“If by ‘real problems’, you’re talking about Thanos, then hell yeah, I’m all for avoiding that fight,” he replied cheerfully. At her annoyed expression, he chuckled and held up his hands defensively. “Come on, we have a while to go. Stay in school, take on missions, make some extra dough, and when we graduate, get pardoned by Nova Prime. And Thanos? We gotta work our way up to that, okay? That’s not the kind of fight we just decide to jump into.”_

_“Exactly, which is why we need to start planning now, instead of jetting across the galaxy doing god knows what, or going to classes here. I -_ we _, need information.”_

_“You said ‘I’, not ‘we’,” Peter frowned, folding his arms across his chest. “Wait, are you trying to leave?”_

_“I can’t stay here,” she said, letting out a slightly hysterical laugh. “I don’t want to be responsible for Thanos coming here and eviscerating the entire planet for my betrayal.”_

_“You can’t - you can’t just leave us,” he stuttered. The disappointment in both his face and his tone were clear. “I thought you wanted to be a part of this. The team, the school.”_

_“I have more pressing concerns than being a good little student,” Gamora retorted. “And believe me, Quill, this team? It’s not going to work. You’ve seen the personalities we have to deal with, the egos battling for the most attention. That includes yours.”_

_“You said you wanted to die among friends.” Peter fixed her with a steely-eyed glare. “Or was that just a lie?”_

_She hesitated, finally taking a few steps towards him instead of turning away. “I have rarely been so...terrified the way that I was when we were spiraling towards Terra. I thought I had finally found true companions, only to lose them all within a matter of seconds. That being said, if I told you that you weren’t my friend, would that help you let me go?”_

_He smiled privately to himself. Finally, a bit of truth. “No. Because I still consider you my friend, and I want you here, with me, with_ us _. All the nonsense that’s been going on ever since we met proves that our group of weird a-holes? We’re stronger as a team. So please. Stay.”_

* * *

 _Peter had been unsure whether he would cry for the death of his father. He had grown up thinking that he was just a man who had left his mother behind, but it had turned out to be_ so _much worse than that. His blood boiled just thinking about everything Ego had said to him - about his mom, his friends, especially the stuff he’d said about Gamora. Still, he found his eyes were stinging a little bit as he turned away from the window of the Eclector (praise_ all _the gods that Yondu had thought to call Kraglin in to rescue them)._

_The others had tucked themselves away quite early that night, exhausted with the week’s events. Mantis, despite being brand new to the team, had already proven her worth when she had helped put everyone else to bed, quieting their minds so they wouldn’t toss and turn all night. The only person that remained behind with Peter, strangely enough, was Gamora. “Quill?” she said quietly. “Are you alright?”_

_“I’ve been better.” He turned to look at her, attempting to read her expression. She seemed rather melancholy, having slipped off to have a heart-to-heart with Nebula before returning to join him. He had a feeling it had been because of his eulogy, knowing that Gamora was often more than frustrated with her sister’s attitude, and had considered abandoning her before. Peter sometimes felt the same way about Yondu and his lackluster effort in school, but both he and Gamora had chosen to continue having hope in them. “How about you?”_

_“It...scared me, thinking you were dead,” she confessed, folding her arms across her chest as if to protect herself. From what, he didn’t know. “You think I’d be used to it by now. We’ve already watched each other nearly die a handful of times. But this felt different - probably because I wasn’t there to witness it. One minute, I was leaving to save you, and the next, I was waking up thinking you were gone.”_

_“You want to_ watch _me die?” Peter joked half-heartedly. “But yeah, I know what you mean. It’s dangerous work we’re doing out here. Really puts things into perspective.”_

_“Things like what?” She stepped closer, curious. The hardness in her eyes had melted away, her arms coming to her side._

_“Like how important the people in your life really are,” he said softly. “What they really mean to you.”_

_She nodded somewhat absentmindedly, turning to stare out the window with him. The observation deck of the Eclector had always been a tad nicer than that of the much-smaller Milano, providing a better view. Even then, at this distance, the exploded remains of Ego’s planet were barely visible._

_Peter couldn’t help but watch her for as long as he could without feeling like a creep, observing the scratches and patches of raw skin on her face and hands that were already healing, her bloody knuckles that had already started to scab over. She would be back to normal by the following morning, but there was a sense the emotional weight of this particular mission would sit with her for a long time, as it would for everyone. There was no doubt in Peter’s mind that Gamora was beautiful, likely the most gorgeous girl he’d ever met, but she was so much more than that. Uncompromising, unyielding Gamora, with the sharp tongue and the sharper blade. His second-in-command, though she was usually steering more often than not. It was getting easier to talk to her nowadays, and she had opened up to conversation and companionship by leaps and bounds since they had first met, but she still felt a little distant to him, a bit out of reach. She spent most of her spare time with Nebula, disciplining her sister so she would finally be allowed on missions. Peter knew that Nebula was Gamora’s priority, and that she had no obligation to spend time with him, but he still couldn’t help but speculate what it would be like._

_“Gamora,” he suddenly found himself saying, and oh god, what was his mouth doing? “What’re your plans when we get back?”_

_“Sleep, probably,” she said with the beginnings of a laugh. “The beds on this ship certainly aren’t my favourite. Why?”_

_Since she hadn’t turned back to look at him, Peter chose to study her profile, noting the tightness in her jaw, the cool demeanor returning to her gaze. “I was wondering if maybe you…” He trailed off._ No, bad idea _, he told himself sternly._ You barely have anything to talk about when you’re alone on the Milano for five minutes, what the hell could you possibly say on a date? _“...were planning on doing a show this weekend.”_

_Gamora eyed him suspiciously, curious about the odd pause he’d taken. “If I’m not too exhausted, probably. Though my amps haven’t been holding up very well as of late. I might have to dip into our funds, see if we can spare some units to get them looked at.”_

_“Right, good idea.” He cleared his throat, and silence fell over them again. He wasn’t sure what else to add, and she didn’t seem to have anything else to say, either. Peter wondered what it would be like to talk to her about something that wasn’t related to the team or school. “I’m, uh, gonna go to bed now. So, uh, night.” She glanced over at him briefly, nodding, before turning to watch as the last of Ego disappeared before her very eyes._

* * *

_Gamora caught a whiff of something rather foul as Peter walked past her on the way out the Milano. She looked up from her book, setting down the blade she had been idly twirling between her fingers. “Quill, what's that awful smell?”_

_He paused, turning on his heel to look at her. “New cologne. Why, you don’t like it?”_

_“You smell like you’ve been rolling around in toxic waste,” she sniffed. Her eyes flickered over him, fully taking in his appearance. He was wearing a button-up shirt under his usual red leather jacket, had swapped out his cargo pants for slacks, and replaced his giant combat boots with loafers. His strawberry blond hair, usually haphazardly messy and a little curly, was artfully slicked back, and the edges of his stubble had been cleaned up, no longer making its way down his neck. “You’re going on a date.”_

_“How could you tell?” She rolled her eyes. Honestly, didn’t he know her better by now? Besides, it wasn’t rocket science. Groot probably could have put it together. “Yeah, one of the SHIELD agents. She was training with Johnson the same time I was in there, and I thought she was pretty cute. Asked her out on the spot. We’re gonna get dinner at one of the restaurants on campus, not sure what yet.”_

_Her eyebrows shot up. “Well, she’s going to regret saying yes once she sees you,” she said dryly._

_“Hey,” Peter exclaimed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”_

_Sighing exasperatedly, Gamora slammed her book shut and got to her feet, walking right up to him. She regretted it slightly when the smell only grew stronger. “If she was as charmed by you as you say, then she won’t like how you look - or smell - right now. You’re not this, this clean-cut, preppy boy, Quill, you’re a roguish ex-Ravager who never stops talking. Pretending otherwise is...unattractive.” Now that she was closer, she couldn’t help but notice Peter’s eyes as they watched her. She had never noticed how many colours there were, the way the light could change them in an instant._

_Her first memory of Peter wasn’t exactly a fond one, what with him sitting across from her and asking her about fifty questions in one go. It had somehow resulted in them deciding to grab the orb and run before Ronan got his omnicidal hands on it, or the Collector unwittingly released its true power. Then Rocket and Groot had gone running after them, Drax inserted himself into the situation once they were at the Kyln, and the rest was history. Aside from all that, however, was how much Peter had managed to get under her skin in less than thirty seconds - hell, before he had even opened his mouth - and, admittedly, how physically attractive she had found him to be, not that she would ever tell him that. Gamora wasn’t blind to Peter’s qualities - his tousled hair, his strong jaw, his easygoing, slightly crooked smile that made him all the more charming. Still, he had managed to both aggravate her and understand her in record time, his looks be damned._

_This odd, sterilized version of himself he was sporting? It wasn’t him._

_“Maybe I should cancel,” Peter groaned, now slumping onto the couch. “It’d be better than telling her I’m gonna be late, and then chickening out. What should I do, Gamora?”_

_“It makes no difference to me,” she said lightly, though she felt inexplicably pleased. She sat back down next to him and picked up her book. “I’m not the one you’re going on a date with.”_

* * *

_It was almost midnight when Gamora returned to the Milano, adrenaline still pumping through her veins. It had been a fantastic show at Club Galaxy, one of her best. People seemed to fully accept her presence among them despite the title and kill count she carried with her, embracing her as much as they did with every new recruit that arrived at the Academy._

_Her train of thought was broken when she nearly tripped over something on the bathroom floor. “Shit. QUILL!” she hollered. When there was no immediate response, she stalked back out into the corridor and banged on his bedroom door. “Quill, you left another towel on the bathroom floor again. How many times do I have to tell you to pick it up?” All she heard in reply was a groan in pain. Immediately fearful, she hurried inside to find Peter curled up in the fetal position on the floor, still fully clothed. She immediately kneeled by his side, hands going to his shoulders. “Quill? Are you okay, what happened?”_

_“Mrrrgh.” He slowly rolled onto his back, staring up at her with glazed eyes, his mouth hanging slightly open like he’d forgotten how to close it. Okay, drunk, then. She could handle drunk Peter. It was injured Peter that she was unsure of - not first aid, that she was proficient at. It was the comfort required that she wasn’t sure how to give._

_“This doesn’t get you out of cleaning up after yourself,” she informed him, though she did help him onto his bed. “How much did you drink at Club A? You smell like a distillery.”_

_“Not ‘nough,” he slurred, slumping against the wall. It was like every bone in his body had given up. “Today’s the...today’s the daaay.”_

_“Day for what?” She began undoing his shoelaces._

_“Mom’s day.” He pouted at her in such an exaggerated manner she almost wanted to laugh, but she knew it was no laughing matter. Whether he meant it was his mother’s birthday or the anniversary of her death, one thing was clear - he had drunk himself into oblivion because he was thinking about her._

_“I”m sorry,” Gamora whispered, reaching to pat his hand awkwardly. “You’ll be okay, Quill. Just get some sleep, alright? I’ll take care of the towel. You need me to bring you some aspirin? Water?”_

_Peter could only nod in response, shrugging off his jacket and flopping down onto his mattress like a ragdoll, one boot still dangling from his toes. With a heavy sigh, he mumbled into his pillow so quietly that she had almost missed it. “Thanks, G’mora.”_

* * *

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. _Peter jumped at the sound of the noise. Was someone attacking the Milano? No, wait, they were on the ground. Was someone pulling a prank against the Milano?_

_He ran outside to find Gamora sitting on the floor of the loading bay, bouncing what appeared to be Rocket’s old dud grenades against the side of the ship. Peter wasn’t sure what he found more disturbing - the sullen look on her face that could only mean trouble, or the fact that grenades bounced so well. “Uh, Gamora?”_

_“I don’t want to talk, Quill,” she said firmly._ Thunk _. “So don’t even try.”_

_“Then I can talk,” he said brightly. “I love talking.” She shot him a dirty look, but he ignored it in favour of settling down next to her, though his eyes remained on the Milano. Despite clearly being upset, she was doing a good job of hitting the siding in different spots so she wouldn’t leave dents. How considerate. “So, when I was fifteen - and still with the Ravagers - we had this one job that was pretty interesting. Some stuffy old museum curator dude, I guess he was a bit corrupt like us, wanted us to stage a robbery so he could smuggle some artifacts out and sell ‘em to the Collector for, like, a million units. That’s actually how I found out about the Conservatory. Anyways, Yondu was all, ‘don’t this job feel weird t’ya, boys?’ and Stakar - that was our captain - was like, ‘shut up, Yondu’. But I thought so, too, ‘cause like, what was stopping this guy from just reporting us to the authorities when we ‘robbed’ his museum?”_

_He paused to look over at Gamora so he could gauge her reaction, maybe stop if she truly wanted to be left alone. She had stopped throwing the grenades, and was now rolling one around in her hands, her dark eyes fixated on Peter, curious. “So what happened?”_

_“Yondu and I found out the curator had this super hot daughter, who was like, a year older than me. Which is a_ big _deal when you’re fifteen, right? So we both tried talking to her, and obviously, I was more successful. She told me the job was legit, but the Collector was planning on cutting the deal off. Turns out she was a student at the Conservatory, and connected her dad to the Collector. But she freaking hated her dad because he was super neglectful or whatever, and it was all her idea so that_ she _could get part of the cut from the Collector and run away from her family forever.”_

_“You stopped her, right?” At this point, Gamora looked almost fascinated. Hey, Peter took pride in his storytelling abilities. They didn’t always go so well whenever Gamora was on the receiving end, though she was certainly a better listener than Drax._

_“Duh. I asked her out to dinner, told her I was gonna be her getaway driver since I already had the Milano by then, but I secretly reported her to her dad and the authorities. She had no idea until we got to dessert, and the cops came up to us and was all, ‘miss, can you come with us, please?’. I felt super cool, like I was James Bond or something.” Peter laughed at the memory._

_“Did you ever see her again?” He looked sheepish, and for a moment, she couldn’t understand why, until she sighed in realization. “You slept with her, didn’t you?”_

_“Yup, lost my virginity to her,” Peter mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. Gamora felt like driving her head through a wall. Of_ course _it somehow resulted in him getting the girl. It was probably why Peter had tried flirting with her on Knowhere - not because he had been interested in pursuing Gamora, it was just something that came naturally to him, a personal challenge. “She was so impressed, she asked me out after her mom bailed her outta jail. She also put in a recommendation at the Conservatory with the Collector, in case I needed somewhere to be.”_

_“Unbelievable,” Gamora groaned, shaking her head. They fell silent for a few minutes, though it was noticeably less awkward than it could have been. She considered whether to tell him what had been bothering her, then decided it couldn’t hurt. Although Peter often acted rashly, he was surprisingly reliable when it came to conversation. “Nebula had another ‘episode’ again. Someday, somehow, she’s going to run off and head straight for Thanos, Guardians be damned.”_

_“You’ll get through to her eventually,” he said soothingly, resting a hand on her back. “She’ll see how valuable having a team can be. And she cares about you a lot, even if she’s really bad at showing it. Like,_ really _bad. She’ll stick around, be a Guardian, fight by your side. She’s not the same person she was when we first got here, and she’s gonna get even better with time.”_

_“Maybe if she listened to someone like you and all your over-the-top motivational speeches, she’d finally believe it.”_

_“Hey, no. It has to come from_ you _, Gamora. It’s between the two of you, and you mean more to her than anyone else. You’re totally capable of over-the-top motivational speeches!” She ducked her head down into the crook of her arm, smiling into her elbow so he couldn’t see._

_“Thanks, Quill.” He grinned at her, a curiously warm sparkle in his eyes. “You always have such odd stories to tell.”_

_“You must have some yourself,” Peter offered._

_“There’s not much to talk about when it comes to my life, aside from the horrors I’ve committed under Thanos’s rule. I doubt you’d want to hear about those.” Gamora gave him a self-deprecating smile. “One question, though - who or what is a James Bond?”_

_He straightened up almost instantly in excitement. “You’ve never seen a Bond movie?”_

_“I have never watched a movie, period,” Gamora said, brow furrowing. “Is it like that_ Footloose _you keep mentioning?”_

 _“Uh,_ Footloose _and Bond? Totally opposites,” he laughed. “But, hey, if you’re free right now, I’ve got_ Footloose _on VHS. I could use the distraction, I’ve got an ethics essay with my name on it and nothing else. Literally. I haven’t even come up with a title yet.”_

_He expected her to chastise him for ignoring his work as she always did, but she simply smiled in return. “VHS? They’re those boxes that are like bigger versions of your cassette tapes, right?” He nodded, surprised she had remembered. “Sure, I could use the distraction as well.”_

_As Peter got to his feet, Gamora finally set the grenades aside and began running her fingers through her hair, shaking it loose from where it had gotten tucked into the back of her shirt. The sunlight caught her movement, glinting off her silver rings and illuminating the red undertones of her hair. His breath caught for a moment, watching her eyelashes flutter closed as she flicked her tresses over her shoulder._

_“O-okay. Let’s head inside then.”_

* * *

_Peter leaned back in his pilot’s seat, satisfied. Another successful job, complete. No one got hurt (aside from Drax’s pride when Gamora had taken out more bad guys than him, that had been incredible to watch), they got paid enough to keep everyone’s stomachs full, and were now headed back to campus._

_“Quit daydreamin’, Quill,” Rocket called from his left. “We ain’t on autopilot yet.”_

_“Yeah, but it’s not like we need two pilots right now. Nothing’s happening.” He waved at the windshield absentmindedly, where there was nothing but stars in sight. “We’re only a couple clicks away from Earth. We’ve got, what, fifteen minutes left? Ten?”_

_“I am Groot,” Groot said from Rocket’s shoulder._

_“See, Groot agrees with me. I don’t have to stick around, you got this.” Peter stood, patting Groot on the head and giving Rocket a playful slap on the shoulder._

_“That’s not at all what he said!” Rocket exclaimed. “And you just wanna hang out with your_ girlfriend _.” Peter froze on the spot._

_“Uh, no, wrong, not my girlfriend,” he said as cheerfully as he could manage, though his heart was racing oddly fast. He hoped she couldn’t hear them from below. He moved to pick up his textbooks from the storage compartment next to his seat. “Just a girl. Who’s my friend.”_

Yeah, a girl you run a team with and spend all your time with, who’s basically one of the most important people in your life _, Peter thought to himself._ Whatever, Peter, you decided to let that ship sail a while ago. You’re friends, good friends, even. Don’t mess that up just because you also think she’s cute. _Even then, he was lying to himself. It wasn’t just about Gamora being cute. It was that smile she gave him whenever he was good, the stomp in her foot when he was being particularly irritating, the fierce warrior’s cry she let out whenever she was engaged in combat. Her intelligence, perseverance, surprising sense of humour, her...everything._

_Shaking himself, he made his way down to the common area and flung his books down onto the table, settling down in the seat across from Gamora. He cracked open his textbook and glanced at her, only to see she hadn’t even looked up at his arrival. Deciding he needed to get her attention, he leaned forwards._

_“Gamora._ **_Psst_** _, Gamora. Gam - ”_

 _“What do you_ want _, Quill?”_

_“What did you get for question twelve?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a special place in my heart because I had it planned out before a lot of the other chapters, and it helped me figure out how to differentiate these Guardians from the MCU Guardians (aside from the obvious, of course). I wanted to have more group sequences but this chapter would've ended up a good 12k in total. Maybe I'll have some stand-alone one-shots in the future? ;)
> 
> Not gonna lie, my schedule for the next week is incredibly hectic, so I can't guarantee the final two chapters are going to be on time. I'm gonna try my best for Wednesday and then the following Monday instead. Or maybe I'll somehow follow the usual, who knows. Either way, just wanted to let you know before you think I've suddenly abandoned y'all at the end!
> 
> To compensate, here's a little sneak peek of something I'm working on to accompany the epilogue, and also part of the whole flashback theme I've got going on here - the [hotel room selfie](https://68.media.tumblr.com/6c8fcc29c2cb52427f33e2351024815d/tumblr_ovmg9iGkEX1r8vhq9o2_1280.png), and the [kissing selfie](https://68.media.tumblr.com/cb668af900413b50b0f35904f25df67c/tumblr_ovmg9iGkEX1r8vhq9o1_400.png)! (Yes, these are Sims. Yes, I'm aware they look nothing like the actors. I tried, but Chris Pratt's face especially is really difficult to capture in Sim form.)
> 
> All your comments and kudos are much appreciated and so sweet, thank you, lovelies!!


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is more than a little busy, Gamora is more than a little frustrated, and the others can't believe this is _still_ happening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhh warning for the tiniest bit of NSFW on Peter and Gamora's part. That makes it sound more exciting than it actually is, and it's not very descriptive, but just to cover my bases!

It felt like the beginning of the end.

Okay, so maybe Peter was also feeling a little dramatic, but it was hard to wake up in the morning, alone, and take in the sights and sounds of campus life continuing on as always, as if he hadn’t experienced one of the most emotionally taxing nights of his life. What exactly was he supposed to do, pretend like he hadn’t realized he was in love with his best friend at the exact same moment she told him she was thinking of leaving forever? Life really needed a manual for this sort of thing.

“It’s over, Yondu,” he said on Sunday afternoon. They had finally gotten back to studying after Peter had profusely apologized again for his insensitivity from yesterday. Yondu had waved it off, saying that he had just been surprised Gamora never told him herself. “I’m not gonna make her stay if she doesn’t want to. I’m not that guy.”

“You really think she’ll be happier chasin’ Thanos without you?” Yondu looked skeptical. “She ain’t gonna leave, boy, so stop crying about it. Prom’s next week, after all. You’re gonna dance, realize you’re both idiots, and finally get together. That’s how it works in those films o’ yours, after all. They never get together ‘til the end.”

Peter snorted, reaching for his eraser. He was getting pretty good at all the hero-ing curriculum thanks to Gamora, like superhero rights and history of justice, but when it came to math, he was still kind of terrible. “Yeah, and this ain’t a movie. We kind of... _know_ …that we both have feelings for each other, but we’re gonna pretend otherwise to make it easier for her to go. You really think I’m gonna be selfish and tell her that I love her, just so she won’t leave? No way, man. It’ll just be an unspoken thing.”

“And now you see the problem of not tellin’ her way back when it was just an itty-bitty crush,” Yondu said, wagging a pencil in Peter’s face. “What happened to that risk-taking, snot-nosed kid I made friends with all those years ago, huh? What happened to him?”

“He grew up,” Peter mumbled, slumping forward onto the table. “Realized just ‘cause he’s flying among the stars, don’t mean he can keep his head in the clouds.”

Yondu could only laugh in response. “Nice one. You spend all night thinkin’ that up?” He threw his pencil sharpener at Peter, smirking in satisfaction when it bounced off his forehead. “C’mon, Quill. Think of all that shit you two went through since you met. Hell, all that shit you went through since you started this whole ‘relationship’ of yours. Your little _love_ trip, all the moanin’ and groanin’ about being separated, that fight y’all had after you talked to that Cindy girl, then getting stranded and babysittin’ the twig. Proves you’d do anything for each other, right? So what’s wrong with a little long distance?”

“Yondu.” Peter sighed noisily, shutting his book. He really should start studying with people who didn’t lecture him about his love life. Then again, that basically left him with Gamora, who _was_ his love life. Maybe he just needed friends who weren’t emotionally invested in his romantic troubles at all. “It’s not just long distance, you know that. It’s saying goodbye, _permanently_. Gamora is one of the most powerful people in the entire galaxy, but we know she’s _still_ not gonna survive taking on Thanos alone.”

“Then why’s she botherin’? Girl’s smarter than that.” Yondu clicked his tongue. “Then again, she’s in love with _you_ , so maybe she’s stupider than I thought.”

Peter chuckled weakly. “Hey, I’m awesome, okay?” He did shiver a little at Yondu’s words though, the very thought of Gamora loving him in return. He couldn’t be sure how strong her feelings were for him, if they were even a fraction of his. Hell, he couldn’t even quite pinpoint how much he loved _her_ in return. As far as he could tell, he had no limit. Regardless of their acknowledgment of _something_ , one thing was clear - neither was willing to take that last step, not when the very real possibility of being apart forever was at play.

It was then that Peter got an idea. Perhaps his best, or possibly his worst, but he knew that if he could pull it off, maybe, just _maybe_ , he would be able to get some semblance of a happy ending.

* * *

Gamora, meanwhile, holed herself up in her dorm room all Sunday, in the mood for approximately nothing and no one. Well, _almost_ no one. She had gone knocking on Peter’s door a few hours ago, but had gotten no response, so she assumed he was spending his day on the Milano, probably with Yondu.

At the risk of acting like a fragile little child by sitting around and thinking about him, she felt like she was on the cusp of something amazing, and was now having it yanked out from underneath her, only the person doing the pulling was herself. So yes, maybe she just wanted to sleep her entire day away, pretend like nothing could touch her, so long as she was underneath the sheets. But looking around at her dorm room, it just didn’t feel like home. It was vacant, almost offensively bland, lacking the chipped paint, metal flooring, and ever-present oil smell of her room on the Milano. It also lacked the company she had grown so accustomed to.

Monday was a little better for her - classes kept her focus elsewhere, and sparring with Natasha allowed her to vent her frustrations in a healthy way. Still, Gamora was starting to wonder what had happened to Peter. He usually texted her on days they didn’t see each other, which were far and few in between nowadays, but all she was getting was silence.

Dinner on the Milano was chaos as usual, especially since Groot decided to throw a temper tantrum and fling his bowl of mashed roots into poor Mantis’s face. Peter very nearly yelled at Groot until Mantis had calmed him down, and instead, Drax picked Groot up and soothed him until he was ready to apologize to Mantis. Yondu, in a rare moment of kindness, gently told Drax, “you’d make a great daddy someday, boy.” Drax had gone pale and retreated to his room without another word.

Once everyone else had gone to bed, Peter and Gamora were left to lock down the Milano for the night. Now that Gamora had finally allowed her feelings to come to fruition, she couldn’t stop _looking_ at Peter, noticing all the little things that he did that she was so fond of. He was humming something under his breath, something she couldn’t quite identify, his fingers drumming along the kitchen countertops as he checked to make sure none of the appliances were on. And, when he turned to smile at her, there was a little tip of his chin, a tilt of his head, that was so endearing to her that all she could do was grin in return. “Haven’t seen you since…” he began, trailing off with a wave of his hand.

“Yeah,” she said, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “But we’ve got class together tomorrow.” He hummed in response as he checked the sink faucets, before turning to pick up his coat from the couch and shrug it on. She blinked, confused. It was nearly 10 PM, where could he be going? “You have plans tonight?”

“I have a date,” Peter replied. Her eyes widened in shock, and realization quickly crossed his face. “With Stark Labs,” he added hastily. “Sorry, that was...a _really_ bad choice of words. I’m staying over at the tower, so don’t wait up for me, okay?”

Suddenly, Gamora felt like a housewife from one of those old TV shows Peter had tried showing her that she had absolutely hated. The condescending “sweetheart”s (which now reminded her of Peter’s father), the casual slaps across the backside, the commentary about women being shrill, weak, and intended for viewing pleasure only, had made her blood boil like little else ever did. And now, here she was, being sidelined, forced to chase after him for scraps.

“Hey, no, don’t do that to me,” she said, quickly stepping in front of him with her arms folded. “Is there anything I can help with? Is it for a school project or something?”

“Let’s go with ‘something’,” he said, giving her a tight smile. “We’ll hang out another night, I promise. See you tomorrow.” As if it were supposed to make her feel better (and it didn’t), he bent to kiss her cheek before hurrying past her off the ship. She watched him go, the restless feeling in her stomach having returned.

If anything, it became worse when they had classes together. Peter was affectionate as always, kissing her hello and bragging to anyone who would listen when she ended up getting perfect scores on her exam, but the moment the last bell of the day rang, he vanished again. To further twist the knife, he messaged Mantis five minutes before dinner, saying he had to catch up on some work and wouldn’t be coming back to the Milano. By the time Friday rolled around, Gamora hadn’t seen nor heard from Peter since Monday outside of their required “public appearances”. She felt a little guilty for being relieved that the others had also complained about Peter’s absence, but at least it told her that his odd behaviour had nothing to do with her personally.

Despite her reputation, Gamora had been terrified quite a few times in her life. The death of her family, her first encounter with the other children of Thanos, the operations he had performed on her to make her “better”, some of the massacres she had been responsible for, the list went on and on. Admittedly, she had been internally shaking at nearly confessing to Peter that she loved him, worried that she had just ruined everything.

However, it seemed that she and Peter had finally found themselves on the same page, if perhaps not on the same level. She wasn’t sure if he felt it as deeply as she did, but at least now she had some idea of what Peter thought of her. Honestly, asking him whether he was only thinking of sleeping with her had been derived from an old insecurity she had thrown out long ago, but in her moment of weakness, she had to be sure. There were still conversations they needed to be having, about the stuff that was said and everything else in between, but it was hard to talk to someone who had suddenly shut himself away.

At this point, Gamora felt certain that she and Peter were basically just pretending they _weren’t_ dating at this point instead of pretending they _were_ , only really fooling themselves. It wasn’t a fluke, the way he looked at her with stars in his eyes, the way that he laughed at her dry sense of humour, his insistence on sharing his culture with her to make up for the fact she had lost her own. It was evident in the way he protected her (or, at the very least tried) despite knowing she was more than capable of handling herself, the way he built her up and made her feel even more confident than she already did. She wanted to entertain the possibility of a real relationship, she really did, but with everything going on right now, it would only hurt more in the end.

On Friday night, however, Gamora could stand pretending no longer, and decided to slip into Peter’s room after everyone else had gone to bed. The familiar glow-in-the-dark stickers twinkled at her from above, illuminating the photos Peter had put up there. Once again, she found herself staring at the photo of her and Peter kissing. Carefully, she laid down on top of his sheets and folded her hands over her chest, somewhat stiff, even though the bed felt as familiar as her own. Her eyes traveled across the ceiling, finding photos she had never seen before. Groot, surrounded by flowers he had grown himself, an incredibly proud smile on his little face. That time Mantis had beat Drax at thumb wrestling, somehow. Yondu and Nebula on the Milano’s couch, having both fallen asleep on each other’s shoulders, which had dissolved into a screaming match when they had woken up in the same position. Rocket presenting Peter with his birthday present, a mini-figure of Peter far more technologically advanced than the toys on the market, complete with its own collapsible helmet, dual blasters with little LED lights, and a button that made him say “The name’s Star-Lord!” whenever it was pushed.

Beyond that, though, there were more photos of Gamora than anyone else, mostly comprised of all the selfies they had taken and sent to Janet. Him kissing her cheek, him making a goofy face at the camera while she was giving him a dirty look, or one photo where Peter was completely pressed up against her, arms wrapped around her waist, kissing her neck. It looked no different than the rest upon first glance, but Gamora’s face heated at how that moment had made her feel, the way Peter’s hips were pressed against her backside, his breath hot against her throat, sending shivers down her spine.

She inhaled sharply at the sudden warmth spreading through her entire body, the beads of sweat beginning to form on her forehead. Aside from her conflicting feelings about what to do about Peter, whether to give in or give up, other little memories began to nag at her, taunting her. Him fixing the Milano while shirtless and sweaty, the way she had pressed up against him while they were both topless (and granted, also bandaged up) on the dwarf planet, the times she had woken up to find Peter half-sprawled across her, his weight pressing her down into the mattress, leading to...other fantasies.

Because yes, being in a relationship with Peter wasn’t hard to imagine at all now - his attentiveness, his eagerness for traditions like dates and holding hands, his affectionate nicknames and kisses. What remained a mystery was the more physical side of things, which she had been thinking about since they first shared a bed. Would he be just as attentive, be in tune with her desire? How it would feel for him to be fully on top of her, or alternately, if she were to take charge and push him down herself, her knees braced on either side of his torso, hips pressed against him. His mouth, starting at hers, making its way down her jawline, her neck, her collarbones, leaving a trail of heat wherever it went, traveling further and further until…

Gamora let out a sharp cry, her eyes flying open. She hadn’t even realized she had screwed them shut, nor had she realized she had slid an open palm between her legs. “I can’t do this here,” she breathed softly, yanking her hand away and scrambling to her feet. Although no one saw her practically sprint into her own room and quickly kick off her pajama shorts, she felt weirdly guilty. But only for a moment, before her imagination took over again, convincing her to continue where she had left off.

* * *

While Gamora sensed that the clock was ticking slower than ever, the week had flown by for Peter, feeling a constant head rush of adrenaline and nerves driving him forwards. He missed the others terribly, found himself sleeping less than three hours per night without Gamora by his side, making him feel warm and safe, but it was the only way he was going to get this done before it was too late.

He spent Saturday in the library, ducking back and forth between various shelves full of volumes he would never have thought to crack open. Hell, he had never come to the library for anything other than guided tours and group meetings before. Natasha had popped up out of nowhere while he was looking at ship schematics, asking what he was up to. “Would you believe me if I said a bit of light reading?” (She didn’t, but she let it go. He was sweating so much she almost felt guilty.)

On Sunday, the Guardians were summoned to Avengers Hall to meet with Director Fury. Peter dreaded it was going to be another job - he had a nightmare where they were on Knowhere, completing a mission as per usual, until he turned around to find Gamora had disappeared. He was left screaming her name until his throat was raw, desperate beyond compare, but she never returned.

“There was an attack on Xandar last night,” Fury sighed, rubbing at his temples. “A small section of Thanos’s army got to the Nova Corps HQ. They lost about a thousand good men and women, along with a few dozen civilians. It’s not close enough to Earth to make me _too_ nervous, but I’m not about to keep you kids in the dark about this stuff.”

Peter watched Gamora and Nebula closely as the Director talked, noting that even Nebula had flinched slightly at the mention of civilian deaths. Although the circumstances were terrible, he was glad to see Nebula’s humanity showing every now and then. Gamora had clearly done well on teaching her sister the extent of her emotional depths without compromising her rage.

As they exited Fury’s office with Peter leading the way, Gamora jogged up to him and pulled him aside before he could disappear again. “ _Ow_ \- hey, Gamora, what’s wrong?”

“Listen,” she said, her eyes narrowed. “You have no obligation to share everything in your life with me. But whatever it is you’re getting into right now, I’d like the chance to at least _ask_ you to be forthright about what’s going on. We’re a team, after all.”

“I wasn’t really gonna share this with the others - ”

“And I wasn’t talking about the _team_ , team, I meant you and me. We’re a team of our own, are we not?” She pursed her lips, folding her arms in defiance. “So here’s your chance, Peter. I just want you to be honest.”

Chewing his bottom lip in frustration, he reached out to gently pull her arms away from her chest, taking her hands in his, and stepping closer so he could bring their foreheads together. Her large dark eyes were mesmerizing as always, though he could see her anger burning brightly within. “Here’s something honest,” he said quietly. “I’ve missed you _so_ much this week. And you have no idea how much I just wanna walk us back to the Milano so we can watch a movie together and fall asleep in my bed. What I can’t be honest about is telling you what I’ve been doing. But I promise, it’s nothing illegal or immoral or whatever it is you’re thinking.”

“Why can’t you tell me? No, don’t answer that, you can’t tell me _that_ either, can you?” Gamora abruptly yanked herself out of his grasp, a snarl in her lip that made Peter jump a little in response. “You are _incredibly_ frustrating, you know that? Would it really kill you to tell me why you’ve been avoiding everyone?”

“I can tell you when I’m done,” he offered, almost timid.

She stared at him in disbelief for a moment before throwing her hands up in the air and walking away. “I guess we’ll just add this to the pile of things we’ll never talk about again,” she muttered under her breath.

Gamora retreated to her dorm room that night, not even bothering to keep up with the pretense of sleeping on the Milano. If Peter suddenly decided it was okay to keep things from the Guardians, she felt no need to keep chasing after him. She had other things to worry about - her potential demise at the hands of Thanos, for example. All the tactical plans in the world would mean nothing if Thanos got a hold of even one Infinity Stone. She and Nebula had started mapping out all of his reported sightings and bases of operations that they knew of, but it wasn’t enough to figure out where to begin.

She pulled out her notebook of plans (she hadn’t trusted that Thanos wouldn’t find some way of hacking into her electronic devices), poring over the haphazard scribbles of her and Nebula’s discussions, attempting to make sense of it all. It was hard to concentrate, though, when she felt like she was missing someone who was just within reach. Sighing, she buried her face into her pillow, only to find it much squishier than usual. Curious, she slid her hand underneath and pulled out Peter’s hoodie. _Oh_. Gamora knew it had been in her room somewhere, having never returned it since the night they watched _Dirty Dancing_ together, but she had apparently, subconsciously, tucked it away in her bed for safekeeping and forgotten about it. Peter had never asked where it was, so she never thought to give it back.

She paused for a moment before bringing it up to her nose, feeling slightly idiotic as she inhaled slowly. Was this really a thing that people did when they missed other people? It seemed to have worked, though, as she felt the tension in her muscles melt at the scent of Peter’s half-decent cologne and the ever-present whiff of motor oil. Okay, and maybe a little bit of sweat. Gamora felt it was a good thing she didn’t have it on her Friday night, or else she was _definitely_ never giving it back.

She stared down at it, considering, before deciding if she was going to do this, she might as well go all the way. She shrugged off her own jacket and pulled Peter’s hoodie over her head. She laid back down, shaking out the sleeves so the cuffs were fully covering her hands, before grabbing her phone and pulling up her Google Alerts (yes, she was guilty of doing what apparently every other student on campus was doing).

“Guardians of the Galaxy’s Gamora - How to Get Her Hair in Five Easy Steps!”

“Avengers, Guardians, Defenders - Your Guide to the Galaxy’s Heroes”

“A Feminist Perspective on The Importance of Female Superheroes - Black Widow, Captain Marvel, Gamora, & More”

“10 Pictures of Guardian’s Peter Quill and Gamora That Are So Cute, You’ll Want To Throw Up”

Gamora didn’t really understand the last one, though she was pretty sure Pepper had told her to block BuzzFeed awhile ago. Interesting.

 **Peter:** can we talk?

She jumped a little at the sound of the text notification. Apparently, the universe was insistent on her thinking about Peter constantly, despite _really_ wanting to get him out of her head, at least for tonight.

 **Gamora:** i haven’t made up my mind yet.

 **Peter:** i promise that’s not what i’m asking about. i just wanted to apologize again for not being able to tell you what’s going on. but i’d rather do it through a call instead of a text

 **Peter:** i wanted to hear your voice. haven’t heard it much this week

 **Gamora:** and whose fault is that?

 **Peter:** look, you told me i’m entitled to my own privacy, right? and i’m only saying i won’t tell you right now. I have every intention of sharing once i’m done

 **Peter:** here’s something else that’s honest. i haven’t been sleeping well. i think i’ve gotten too used to sharing with you

 **Gamora:** and yet you’ve barely said five words to me all week. are you attempting a trial run of what it’ll be like once i’m gone?

A mere ten seconds after she had sent her last message, Gamora’s phone rang. Sighing, she stared at Peter’s contact photo for a second - it was a picture Rocket had taken a while back of Peter falling out of his pilot’s seat with the most panicked expression he’d ever made, which was saying something - before answering.

“I’m trying incredibly hard not to think about what life is gonna be like without you,” Peter said breathlessly in lieu of a proper greeting. He spoke as if there were too many words in his mouth, and not enough room to keep them inside. “I don’t know how many times I can say sorry before I finally remember how stubborn you can be. So maybe, instead of apologizing, I’ll just make up for all the conversations we haven’t had the chance to have this week. How are you doing?”

Gamora sat up, bringing her knees to her chest as she leaned her back against the wall. She looked around at her room and its bare walls, her mediocre stack of books, the minimal amount of clothing hanging in her closet. As comfy as her dorm was in comparison to her place on the Milano, it was no home. “Prom’s on Friday,” she said softly. “It’s hard to be excited when I’m thinking about my potential death before it happens.”

“To be fair, _most_ of your song catalogue is about how we can die at any time,” he returned, sounding relieved that she had decided to let it go. “Like, forget Thanos. Wouldn’t it be really sad if I just ate some chips too fast, and choked, and then _whoops_ , I’m dead.”

She snorted before she could stop herself. “Don’t make me laugh while I’m trying to be mad at you.”

“You’re laughing at my demise via snack food? Gamora, how _could_ you? I thought we were friends,” Peter whined. Gamora immediately broke out into laughter, unable to hold it in anymore. _God_ , he was too good at making her happy. She couldn’t even be mad at him for more than a few hours anymore, no matter how intense her anger was. “And what do you mean, _trying_? What’s different this time?”

“Knowing, and not believing.” There was a pregnant pause, a hitch in Peter’s breath. “Wanting to say it and never speak of it at the same time. I don’t know, maybe your ridiculous Terran colloquialisms are affecting me.” She could hear his answering smile in the silence, paint a near-perfect picture of it in her head. She laid back down on her side, snuggling into her pillow and being hit with another wave of familiarity from Peter’s hoodie. “You seem to have a lot of time to talk tonight. Whatever it is you’re doing...are you almost finished?”

“It might take me the rest of the week,” he said apologetically. “But I was thinking of doing a group training session on Thursday, blow off some steam before prom. We can hang out then. And then you’ll remember how annoying it is to have me around all the time.”

“Don’t exaggerate,” Gamora said quietly. “It’s not so bad.” He chuckled again, a soothing sound she knew she was going to miss, should she leave.

“I’ve, uh, I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately,” Peter murmured. “I mean, I’ve missed being with all of you, but like I said, I... _really_ can’t sleep without you.”

Feeling brave, and maybe a little bit hazy from the warmth of his jacket, she whispered softly, “Thinking about me how?”

There was a sharp cough that made her ear hurt, and for a second she regretted asking, until Peter’s response came through, his voice even lower than before. “In the general, ‘I hope she’s doing okay and she’s happy’ sense. And also...yeah.”

She bit her lip. “Me too. For you. Both ways.”

“I - really?”

“We’re being honest with each other now, aren’t we? So, yes. At least a few times.” Peter exhaled loudly, his breath somewhat ragged. Gamora couldn’t help but be pleased with the reaction she’d elicited from him, though she knew this couldn’t go any further. She cleared her throat hastily. “Anyways, I should let you get back to it. Sleep early tonight, okay? Otherwise you’ll be useless in class tomorrow.”

“I’ll probably be useless anyways, I’ve got biochem,” he said cheerfully, his voice still hoarse. “Night, Gamora.”

* * *

True to his word, Peter called for a group training session on Thursday, the first time any of them had seen him since Fury’s meeting, aside from shared classes. Training together was a rare event nowadays, as it had been something that they partook in frequently when they had first formed a team, but was now something that was practically unneeded. It was fluid, natural, near instinctive when they were out in the field together. Drax and Gamora, and Peter and Rocket respectively, knew how to keep an eye out for each other when using similar weapons, working in tandem with ease. Mantis’s combat skills were improving by the day, and she knew enough about everyone’s fighting styles to match theirs as best as she could. And of course, everyone knew to look out for Groot, whether he was getting under their feet or getting distracted by a tasty-looking bug.

Upon arriving at the gym, Gamora, wearing Peter’s jacket again, approached him first, almost shy. He smiled down at her, raising an eyebrow slightly at the sight of his hoodie, before she slid her arms around his waist, standing slightly on her toes so she could kiss his cheek in greeting. She turned her face against his to whisper, “I’ll be sure by Saturday.” Peter could only nod in response, hoping he didn’t look as devastated as he felt.

Gamora knew Peter’s reason for the training session was weak - it wasn’t to blow off steam, it was because he thought it would be their last one ever. He had even somehow managed to get Nebula and Yondu to show up, both looking equally grumpy at being interrupted while they were doing absolutely nothing of importance.

Of course, the others didn’t know she and Nebula were planning on leaving. She wasn’t sure if she could bear the thought of Groot’s face if he knew. Nebula had suggested if they really were going to go, to do it right - cut and run, and never look back. “You’ll never be able to do it if they throw us a going-away party,” she had said, half-sarcastic as always.

“We’ve already got enough to worry about with prom tomorrow, Quill, so what’re we doin’ here?” Rocket grumbled.

“Things’ve been tense,” Peter shrugged. “I haven’t been around lately, and I know you guys are kinda pissed at me, so I thought we could get some combat training in, maybe talk stuff through if we need to. And besides, I heard Mantis has been improving quite a bit, so we could also observe where everyone’s skills are at.” Mantis glowed at the praise, pleased, reaching to squeeze Gamora and Nebula’s hands, much to Nebula’s dismay. To her credit, she didn’t immediately crush Mantis’s fingers in return, only shot her a dirty glance and snarl that might have resembled a smile.

Gamora couldn’t help but feel a sense of personal pride as she watched Mantis evade Drax much more easily than she had when they first brought her home six months ago. She still landed on the mats with a shriek that could shatter glass, but she was learning how to land and where to land, and held her own against Drax for a solid few minutes before admitting defeat. A small voice in the back of Gamora’s head whispered, _who will train Mantis when you and Nebula are gone?_

Groot crawled into her lap so he could see everyone else a little better, resting his head on her stomach. He was nodding off somewhat - it was around his usual afternoon naptime - but he had begged Rocket to bring him along so he could be with the others. He gently poked a finger into Gamora’s side and then pointed at Peter. “I am Groot?” he asked hopefully.

It didn’t take a translator to know what he had asked. “No, Groot,” Gamora sighed, feeling much like a mother reprimanding her child.

“I am Groot.”

“I think we were getting close,” she said, smiling sadly. She used one hand to cup the back of his head, and the other to rub his back. “Why don’t you get some sleep for now?”

While Groot drifted off, Rocket came over to sit next to them, much to Gamora’s surprise. Her relationship with Rocket had always been a bit tempestuous, considering his love of chaos and her desire to maintain order. It didn’t help that he often interfered - though with good intentions - when she and Peter were trying to save each other’s lives. Still, she suspected despite him caring more about Peter, his trust in _her_ was stronger. “Hey.”

“Hi. You not participating?”

“Nah,” Rocket said, waving her off. “I know this is only for you and Nebula.”

Gamora blinked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, don’t pull that crap on me, I’m not stupid,” Rocket snorted. “Quill’s trying to keep us distracted, keep us together. Finding ways to tell you to stay without actually sayin’ the words. The others are right, I think you should just make out already and leave us out of your bullshit. We’ve got enough problems without you two acting like those dumbass ‘will they, won’t they’ couples from Quill’s movies.”

“Rocket!” she hissed. “That’s not - ”

“C’mon, Gamora, we damn well know this team’s gonna fall apart the second you’re gone. And I’m not saying you have to stay for _us_ , but how about _you_? How are _you_ gonna hold up when you know you’re never gonna see us again? Look, I’m not your favourite person in the universe by any means, but you’re gonna miss me. You’re gonna miss Yondu, and Mantis, and Drax, and the kid, and I don’t need to tell you how much it’s gonna hurt you, leaving Quill.” Rocket sighed, his ears drooping. “All those years of torture we’ve been through, you and me, and somehow, thinking we had to leave the damn humie behind on that d’ast planet was one of the hardest things we ever had to do.”

“Our lives don’t revolve around Peter,” Gamora said, almost too quickly.

“No, but our livelihood does.” Rocket gestured at the others that were on the mats, where Peter was scooping Mantis up into a giant hug, yelling excitedly that she was “freaking amazing”. Drax was patting her on the back, a satisfied grin on his face, and even Nebula looked somewhat impressed. “Quill makes us happy, even when the job really sucks sometimes. Ain’t nothing wrong with that. Just think about it, okay?” He paused. “And, uh, Gamora? Don’t tell him I said that.”

Gamora watched as Rocket walked away to join them, feeling thoroughly chastised. If even _Rocket_ was giving her a talking-to, maybe it really was time to reconsider.

They walked back to the Milano as a group, Peter and Gamora leading as always. Their fingers were intertwined, hands swinging casually between them. “Back to work for the rest of the night?”

“I finished, actually. So I’m free tonight, if you, uh…” He trailed off, looking at her nervously. She felt unusually apprehensive as well, like every conversation they had, every look they shared, held more weight to it than ever before. It didn’t help that they had admitted to... _thinking_ of each other every now and then, making his offer sound a little more suggestive than he probably meant to.

“Maybe not a movie,” she said quickly. “Dinner with the team, and then maybe we should just go to bed early, finally get a good night’s sleep. Oh, and maybe a couple questions?”

“Going by the rules, we only have one left each,” he replied. “And I...kind of want to save mine for tomorrow. For prom.”

“You have something specific in mind, don’t you?”

“There’s...a _lot_ of things I wanna know about you,” Peter confessed. “But there’s one that’s been kind rattling around in my brain since that night. And I feel like prom’s the best time to ask it. But, y’know, I could ask you now, but then that would ruin the suspense, and I dunno if the mood is right - ”

“Peter, it’s fine,” she huffed, though she was smiling as well. “Save it for tomorrow, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter (in comparison to some of the previous monsters) to set the stage for the next chapter...y'all know what's coming. I'm also curious to see if anyone can figure out what Peter's up to!
> 
> Thank you for the comments and kudos as always!! Also, thanks for the bookmarks and the subscriptions, you guys are awesome. Tiny bit of self-promo - if you've been liking this fic so far, I'd also really appreciate some likes and reblogs over on [tumblr](http://bevioletskies.tumblr.com/tagged/myfic%3A-20q/chrono). Since we're nearly at the end, maybe some people who don't read WIPs (I'm one of those people) might start giving this a chance?


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Guardians attend prom, Gamora makes up her mind, and Peter tells her what he’s been hiding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t wanna spoil how this chapter ends, so let’s just say warning for things going down.

There was something almost _too_ intimate about waking up on Friday morning when Gamora realized Peter’s face was half-buried into her neck, the fading smell of his cologne and shampoo wafting into her face. They hadn’t shared a bed in two weeks, and given their recent...understandings, it felt incredibly close to something they both wanted, but couldn’t have.

It was like her entire life, Gamora had been denied the pleasure of company, of companionship and connections, raised to see other beings as targets and obstacles, only to find true friends, honest and _real_ love of the familial and romantic sense, in the strangest of places. She had found it wasn’t always about having something to fight for, but _someone_ \- several someones, in fact. After all, who would have known that she would find kinship with this odd, ridiculous, impulsive boy with quick feet and a quicker mouth, with stars in his eyes and a song in his heart? How irritating he had been at the beginning, how irritating he could be even _now_ , and yet...

The moment was ruined when Peter sneezed into her hair. Oh well, she couldn’t have it all.

Wincing in slight disgust, Gamora rolled Peter over towards the wall and got up, stretching. She didn’t have to check her phone to know what her schedule was like today - in the morning, a quick sparring session with Nebula, in the early afternoon, preparation at Van Dyne’s, and then by nightfall, _prom_.

“You heading to meet Nebula now?” She turned around to see a sleepy, bed-headed Peter giving her a drowsy grin. He looked adorably rumpled, though Gamora was still half-annoyed that he had sneezed on her.

She hummed in response. “I’ll see you tonight.” He crooked a finger at her, indicating he wanted her to come closer. When she did, he cupped her jaw so he could kiss her on the cheek, apparently the one gesture they allowed themselves to share in private, passably platonic despite its other implications. “Go brush your teeth, your breath smells awful.”

Gamora arrived at the gym to find Nebula already there, having cleared some mat space quite easily, what with everyone being somewhat terrified of her. “Please tell me you’ve decided,” Nebula said in lieu of an actual greeting.

“Saturday,” she replied, beginning to work on wrapping her wrists.

“So you’re allowing Quill to make your decision for you. Figures,” Nebula muttered, turning away from her.

Gamora frowned. “No, it’s not...this isn’t about Peter, though I’ll admit he plays a part in my decision. It’s him _and_ everyone else. What saves the most people, us leaving or us staying behind?”

“We wait any longer, and there will be no room for decision-making whatsoever.” Nebula paced around her, looking at her sister the way a predator observed its prey. “We stay here, and then what happens? We wait ‘til he comes for us?”

“And then we help everyone prepare,” Gamora answered, glancing over at the others in the gym. It was still relatively early, so most students were probably just getting breakfast if not still sleeping, but there were a handful of people around, working diligently on the various exercise machines, unaware of their plight.

“An army of Terrans will be no more than mere fleas to our father,” Nebula hissed.

“STOP - _stop_ calling him our father,” Gamora snapped, her fingernails digging into her palms. “He is no father to either of us. He hurt us, Nebula. Over, and over, and _over_ again, you said it yourself. He deserves nothing but our derision, and our rage. Do him no favours by acting as if he were any sort of parental figure to anyone.” She straightened up, her eyes hard. “Besides, it won’t just be Terrans. There are people of other kinds here, like us, and those who can reach out beyond the stars to form armies of another kind. My only deciding factor at this point is whether we need to involve anyone else at all.”

Nebula’s hands came to rest on her hips, tapping out a rhythm in consideration. “It appears that we’ve become somewhat altruistic since we distanced ourselves from him. You more than me, obviously. I suppose in the case of killing our - in the case of killing _Thanos_ , it’s not such a bad thing after all, if it will allow us to get the job done at last.”

Gamora relaxed, stepping closer to Nebula. “That’s the spirit,” she said, smirking. “Now, let us fight like old times.”

* * *

While the other Guardians were spending their morning outside, soaking in the last bits of sunshine before the summer was over, Peter and Mantis were curled up on the couch together, watching _Knight Rider_. Like Gamora, Mantis didn’t really understand the talking car, either, but she was pleased to finally spend some quality time with Peter.

“You have been so busy,” she commented. “I hope whatever it was you were doing, it was not... _bad_.”

“It really isn’t,” Peter protested. “Why does everyone seem to think I’m up to something terrible?”

“We mean no offense, Peter, you just make some poor decisions sometimes,” Mantis said sympathetically, squeezing his arm. “It’s okay. I know you mean well.”

He groaned in mock offense before changing the subject, turning to look at her. “You excited for prom?”

“Yes. I am determined to make Drax dance with me at least once,” she replied. “It is nice, being here on Terra with other people.”

“You must’ve been so lonely, living with...him,” Peter said quietly. “Did he ever do anything fun with you? Play catch, or something?”

Mantis picked at her fingernails, refusing to meet Peter’s gaze. Her antennae drooped slightly, and Peter felt guilty at prying. She never did like talking about her life before becoming a Guardian. “He might have raised me, but I was never his daughter.”

“I’m sorry.” He took her hands in his and squeezed reassuringly. “I shouldn’t keep asking you about him. But you have a family with us now, Mantis. Not just me, but everyone.”

“I know,” she said, sniffling slightly. “He never hurt me, Peter. Not physically, at least, he was not that kind of man. But I suppose that your brief time with him made it clear what kind of man he _really_ was. I am so much happier here. I cannot imagine ever leaving a life as good as ours.”

Peter internally winced at Mantis’s words, his mind going back to Gamora once again. He couldn’t break Mantis’s heart by telling her about what Gamora and Nebula were planning on doing, not when she was clearly so happy, so at peace with her new life with them. Besides, it wasn’t his truth to tell. “If there’s anything I can do to make it even better, you let me know.”

She smiled down at their joined hands. “Remember when we first met?” she said softly. “I demonstrated my powers by using them on you. At the time, I knew vaguely of what had happened to you before - being chased by the Sovereign, and crashing your ship. I also knew that you must have been quite confused and perhaps angry at meeting your father. And yet, all I could feel was the love you felt for your friends. How you had fought with them, especially with Rocket and Gamora, but you still wanted to make sure they were safe and happy.” She grinned up at him, her antennae lifting with a soft glow. “I do not need _things_ to make me happy, I never did. All I want from you, Peter, is for you to love and care for all of us, as you always have.”

Peter could feel himself tearing up a little bit at Mantis’s kindness. He wrapped her in a bear hug, pulling her in as tight as he could. “That, I can do,” he murmured. “But seriously, if you want your own credit card or something, I could probably get Pepper to set something up, and do you want me to teach you how to drive? Or, like, fly the Milano? Because I could do that, too.” Mantis dissolved into giggles, burying her face into his shoulder, and for a moment, Peter felt the weight lifting off his shoulders, like his head had been cleared of a stormy fog. Mantis had that effect on people, with or without her empathic powers, and he hoped she would never lose it.

* * *

By the time early afternoon had rolled around, the Academy was the most frenzied it had ever been, including the time that the Ultron bots had tried to take over the school. Pepper had shuttles running on and off campus so students could get their hair and makeup done in the city. Janet had cleared out Van Dyne’s and turned it into a free salon for students who couldn’t afford to pay for appointments, enlisting the help of Mary Jane, Greer, and Peggy (who was coveted by all the girls on campus for both her badassness and her red lipstick game).

The Guardians girls had decided to get ready in Van Dyne’s, not really wanting to bother with the tedium of traveling into the city. Mantis was chatting a mile per minute with Janet, who was equally as excitable. Nebula, who didn’t want her makeup done, and, you know, had no hair, sat in the corner with a magazine, secretly glad that for once, she wasn’t saddled with Yondu for company.

“I’m so glad you’re going, Gamora,” Janet said cheerfully. “I gotta say, I was a little worried it might not be your thing. Same goes for your sister, I’m honestly _super_ surprised she’s going, too.”

“We kind of _always_ travel as a team,” Gamora replied. “You’d be hard-pressed to find any of us alone on purpose, although…”

“Although what?”

“I saw Quill skulking around in the library a lot recently,” Natasha said from her chair, where Peggy was helping her sculpt a glamorous, old-school hairdo. “What’s he up to, Gamora?”

“He has a bit of a side project going on at the moment,” Gamora said as nonchalantly as she could. Internally, she found herself somewhat annoyed - she was trying her best to ignore whatever it was Peter was doing, not let it bother her nearly as much as it had been.

Janet’s eyes narrowed. “When you say side project…”

“He was alone, Jan, don’t make Gamora doubt his faithfulness,” Natasha interjected. “Besides, I can’t imagine him having eyes for anyone but her. He seems _absolutely_ smitten.”

“It is even worse when we are on the ship and they think they are alone,” Mantis added, winking at Gamora when the others weren’t looking. “Peter is very affectionate.”

“And why wouldn’t he be? He’s got an amazing girl, and he should remember that,” Janet said proudly, squeezing Gamora’s arm. Her stomach tensed a little in response. It was hard, pretending to already have something that she wanted _so_ much, knowing that she could if they just took that last step. She thought back to last night, wondering what Peter had meant by telling her that his last question, his _twentieth_ question, was specifically for today.

“He’s, uh, thoughtful, alright,” Gamora nodded, turning to look at herself in the mirror. “Janet, is this much glitter really necessary?”

Janet frowned, offended. “Glitter is _always_ a necessity, thank you very much.”

Meanwhile, the boys were getting ready at the dorms, starting much later than the girls, since they needed to do little else but get changed. Peter stood in front of the mirror, nervously adjusting his cufflinks for what felt like the millionth time. He had considered doing something different with his hair, but he remembered how Gamora had once told him that pretending to be someone he wasn’t was unattractive. He wasn’t that guy, that clean-cut, all-American look he had been sporting, more akin to, well, Captain America than him. And she was right - Peter liked himself better just like this.

“Nice cufflinks.” Peter jumped at the sound of Rocket’s voice, turning to see the others standing in his doorway. To his surprise and the other’s discomfort, Drax was wearing a button-up shirt with his nicely pressed slacks. Yondu was in his ridiculous powder-blue suit, Rocket had on a vest and shorts in some expensive tweed material that was the closest to a suit he was ever going to get, and Groot was in a tiny tuxedo. Peter’s heart melted at the sight of his itsy-bitsy bowtie. “Custom-made?”

Peter turned back to the mirror, staring at his reflection. He had asked Gamora about the colours of her dress so he would be able to match her, though she didn’t seem too concerned if they didn’t. Still, he had taken it to heart, excited at the thought of what she would look like tonight. He was dressed in what was likely the most expensive clothes he would ever own - a plum dress shirt with a suit jacket in the same red as his plethora of leather jackets, dark slacks, and leather oxfords. He also had a few finishing touches - a black tie with tiny white stars, red star-shaped cufflinks, and of course, his mask. At first, he wanted something grey and sleek to mimic the look of his collapsible helmet, but then he found a black mask with silver markings, reminiscent of the one on Gamora’s face. _Perfect_ , he’d thought as he bought it. He hoped she would think so, too.

Also, he remembered to brush his hair. Small victories.

“Online shopping, actually. I did some digging,” Peter shrugged. “How’d you find a suit for Groot? And _you_?”

“Called in a favour with the Ravager tailor,” Yondu said, looking slightly melancholy. The suits must have been delivered mere days before his men had been attacked. “Twig looks real good, don’t he?”

“I am Groot,” Groot said proudly, puffing his little chest outwards.

“You’re gonna be the best-dressed guy at prom, Groot,” Peter told him.

* * *

The students audibly gasped as they entered the gym, completely and utterly transformed. Gone were the sweat-stained mats, the sleek weight machines, even the creaky wooden floors. With Pepper’s organization skills and Janet’s eye for style and interior decorating, the entire room had been overhauled to look just as magical as any fairytale illustration.

The floors had been concealed with temporary black-and-white checkerboard linoleum tile, while the walls and mirrors were covered with thick black curtains. White string lights hung from the ceiling banisters, creating the illusion of a perfectly clear night sky as they twinkled off every reflective surface. There was a large dance area cleared out at the very front, where Vision was setting up his DJ booth. The back area consisted of round tables with black velvet tablecloths, gold-framed chairs with black cushions, all faintly lit by its centerpieces of black, white, and red flowers, with small fake scented candles in the middle. To finish it all off were sets of white and gold cutlery, black cloth napkins, and gold table settings, harkening of old-school decadence. It was simply stunning, and probably blew the budget Director Fury had been hoping for.

As breathtakingly beautiful as everything was, it wasn’t the view Peter had been looking for. He glanced around in wonderment until his eyes landed on the girls he had been seeking out. Nebula was scowling as always, though she admittedly looked quite nice in her fitted jumpsuit and combat boots, not too far a stretch from her usual leather uniform. Mantis was bouncing up and down excitedly in her bright green tulle dress, her alien-shaped earrings swinging from her head with every move she made. Her hair was up in two perfectly shaped buns on the very top of her head, with a healthy dose of silvery-green glitter on her roots, her eyelids, and in her lipstick. Gamora, though, was... _wow_.

Peter approached her with what he felt was probably the biggest, dumbest grin he had ever sported, wondering for a moment how he had lucked out, until his brain kicked in and reminded him that despite everything, she _still_ wasn’t actually his girlfriend. With any luck, he was hoping to find a way to change that tonight.

As he got closer, he drank in the mesmerizing sight before him. Gamora wasn’t as tomboyish as her sister, but she definitely didn’t wear dresses or skirts very often. Regardless, Peter found her to be utterly gorgeous no matter what she wore, whether she was wearing a dress or in full combat gear, brandishing a sword (and now he was picturing her in a dress _with_ her sword. _Damn_ ). Tonight, she was in a floor-length gown with a leather corset belt, the dress itself starting off jet black at the bustline, and melting into a soft red and purple ombre from the hips down, somewhat echoing the ombre of her hair. She wore a thin black choker with a golden star charm, elbow-length lace-up gloves reminiscent of those she wore in combat, glittery earrings, and a deep purple mask with dark red swirls. Her hair was up in a complicated braided twist, further showcasing the reds of her hair. There was a serene confidence in the way she held herself, her chin slightly tipped upwards as always, her hands resting on her waist, though there was a gentleness in her stance as well that Peter had come to admire so much.

He held out the corsage in complete silence, a collection of black and white blossoms that Groot had spent quite some time working on. She took the cue to lift her hand, allowing him to slide the satin ribbon over her gloved wrist, smiling warmly at him the entire time, despite him being rendered speechless.

Once he finished, however, he was still gaping at her rather oddly. “Peter?” Gamora looked slightly concerned. “You haven’t said anything.”

“Sorry,” Peter said a little louder than he’d meant to. “It’s just...you look _incredible_. And, uh, I like the star on your necklace. We had the same idea it seems.” He patted on his tie with one hand, feeling rather idiotic as he did so, while lifting his other arm to show her his cufflinks.

“That’s not all.” Gamora took a step back and lifted the hem of her dress to reveal strappy black heels, complete with golden star-shaped buckles. She moved back towards him, her hands coming to rest over his. “What do you think, _Star-Lord_?”

He bent to kiss her, his arms sliding around her waist and pulling her flush against him, hands cradling the small of her back. As Gamora’s arms came up to rest over the back of his neck, he heard the shutter noise of a camera, but he was barely paying attention to their surroundings in favour of holding her just a little bit closer. It was weird, kissing her and knowing what it meant to both of them, what it _could_ mean.

Eventually, though, Gamora pulled away, turning towards the camera. Janet was standing there in a giant poofy black-and-yellow dress and a beehive-like updo, utterly appropriate for her superhero moniker, clutching a DSLR camera instead of her usual Starkphone. “Aren’t you two the cutest?” she gushed, causing Gamora to flush slightly. “We’re doing portraits over by the drinks table, if you’d like. I’m trying to squeeze in some last-minute photos for the yearbook, they’re being sent in for print on Sunday. And, not to give it away, but there’s a _pret-ty_ good chance you two are the Academy’s Cutest Couple!”

“I look forward to finding out,” Peter winked, turning to look at Gamora, his arms still around her middle. “What do you think, honey? Wanna get our pictures taken?”

Gamora glanced over at Janet’s hopeful face before looking back up at Peter. “Sure, why not.”

* * *

After everyone, students and teachers that were stuck as chaperones alike, had filed in and settled down at their tables, dinner was served by some suspiciously compliant Ultron bots, while jazzy lounge music serenaded them from the speakers set up around the gym, creating a rather pleasant atmosphere. While it was commonplace for some of the other students to get such treatment, the Guardians found themselves somewhat overwhelmed with the classiness of the whole affair. The fanciest place they had ever been to was when the Nova Corps had given them some pity units after defeating Ego, and they had splurged on a group dinner at Olive Garden. They weren’t allowed back after the breadstick incident, though Rocket still claimed to this day that the waitress had marinara sauce in her hair _before_ he got involved.

“Ain’t this pleasant.” Yondu brandished his fork at their surroundings. “Sittin’ down in our best clothes, having a nice meal like rich folk.”

“Food’s good,” Rocket admitted. He had practically inhaled everything on his plate in the first ten minutes of the meal.

Drax, however, hadn’t started eating yet, as he had spent a good five minutes cutting up Groot’s portion into smaller pieces, and was now lost in thought, looking around at the other tables, taking it all in. “What an interesting life we lead. Your Terra is much more exciting than I initially thought it would be, Quill,” he mused.

“Yeah, but it’s less ‘planet of outlaws’ and more ‘planet of heroes', apparently,” Peter shrugged. Gamora squirmed a little in discomfort at Drax’s words. Was he also somehow aware of her plans to leave? It seemed like everyone was getting weirdly nostalgic about a past currently taking place in the present, as if they were missing something that was still there. Then again, she felt that way about Peter - he was sitting right next to her, his elbow occasionally brushing her arm as they ate, and yet part of her felt like she had already left him behind.

“Nothing wrong with that,” Rocket said enthusiastically, holding up his glass of punch. “Let’s drink to bein’ a bunch of a-holes _and_ heroes!”

“Cheers to that!” Peter grinned. They all raised their glasses in a rare moment of perfect solidarity - even Nebula joined in, a genuinely relaxed expression on her face that suggested she was actually enjoying herself. Janet swung by to take a photo of their toast, and other students were watching from a distance, looking jealous. Peter certainly couldn’t blame them - his odd, dysfunctional family probably looked like they had found their peace with each other. And for the most part, they had. He still couldn’t help but glance over at Gamora, though she seemed to be doing a pretty good job at masking what he was sure to be dominating her every thought.

Eventually, the sounds of cutlery and glasses clinking about slowly died down, and the lounge music faded away. Vision took his place at the DJ booth and announced that Janet had put together a special playlist with the help of some students, an appropriately old-school mix of songs to suit the masquerade theme.

“You have something to do with this?” Gamora asked Peter, curious. She wasn’t sure if she would be able to handle one of the songs they had danced to in private suddenly blasting through the gym speakers. The song from their six-month anniversary, the one from the hotel room, hell, even the one they had danced to back on Knowhere. She had caught Peter listening to _Fooled Around and Fell In Love_ more than once, and admittedly it was still one of her favourites, considering it was one of the first Terran songs she ever listened to. Still, she had no desire to hear it again in this very moment, or else everything she was thinking about would be written all over her face.

“I made a couple suggestions, but they wanted something even further back. Think Cap, Carter, and Barnes,” Peter chuckled. He stood and undid the button of his suit jacket, then held out his hand for her to take. “Shall we?” Nodding, Gamora accepted his hand and let him lead her towards the dance floor.

Most people had remained in their seats, still finishing up dinner (or waiting for dessert). Janet, of course, was already out on the dance floor, surrounded by several of her girls, while Steve and Peggy were swaying together in perfect rhythm, dancing in the way they had promised to do so many decades ago. The first song on the playlist was Frank Sinatra’s version of _Cheek to Cheek_ , appropriately upbeat and a perfect start for the night. Some students looked baffled at the thought of dancing to something that wasn’t currently in the Top 100, but joined in regardless, eager to have some fun and forget about their troubles.

“You must be living your dream right now,” Gamora remarked dryly a few songs later. Peter was trying his hardest to sing along to _Puttin’ on the Ritz_ and failing, though he was endearingly eager in his efforts. “The entire room is dancing.” It was hard to get a read on his expression when there was so much frantic movement around them, and the mask concealing the upper half of his face certainly didn’t help, but there was such unbridled joy in every shift of his muscle, every bounce in his step, that it was utterly infectious. Gamora felt herself fully relax for the first time in weeks, shoulders loosening as she tried to keep up with him and the energy of the rest of the student body.

“It’s the best,” he beamed, smiling so hard that his cheeks hurt. “I’ve got music, I’ve got my team, I’ve got _you_ \- what else could I ask for?”

Peter and Drax swapped dance partners a few songs later at the beginnings of a Benny Goodman medley. Mantis’s enthusiasm matched Peter’s step for step, hysterical giggles escaping her body like they had bubbled up from inside and couldn’t wait to get out. It was endearing to watch them together, both somewhat childlike in similar ways, not that it was a bad thing. Gamora admired their upbeat, can-do attitude in the face of adversity - it was refreshing to be around them when she had spent so much of her life with the sullen Nebula.

Peter had taken Mantis under his wing the moment he came to the conclusion she was basically his sister, taught her the ways of the Guardians and the ways of Earth. She had adapted quickly, having had no other measure of quality of life than her bland existence on Ego, and was reasonably well-liked by the others on campus. Gamora felt a little guilty, thinking back on how aggressive she had been towards Mantis at first, and how wary she had been about Mantis’s powers. Now, Mantis was also something of a sister to her as well, someone she had grown to love and care for like they had known each other their whole lives.

“You seem lost in thought,” Drax commented. The two of them were standing on the sidelines, keeping an eye on their respective dates. “Did you want to go back out and dance? If you must, I could accompany you.”

“That’s kind of you, Drax, but I’m alright,” Gamora said, squeezing his shoulder. “Are you having a good time?”

“I must admit, the music is quite catchy. It almost makes me want to tap my foot,” Drax replied. “And you? You and Quill look very good together, contrary to my previous beliefs. He is getting you to dance more and more. Somehow.”

She laughed sheepishly, reaching to push her mask up her forehead so she could look at him properly. “I have to say, Peter might be onto something. It’s nice to have fun when there’s so much going on.”

He looked at her quizzically. “I was not aware there _was_ something ‘going on’. What’s wrong, Gamora?”

Gamora bit her lip. Shoot, she’d slipped. Aside from Groot, Drax was the one she was most worried about. After all, he had been the one to hunt her down from the start so he could get to Thanos. He may have relaxed immensely since becoming a Guardian and starting a new life on Earth, but he was still just as fight-starved and bloodthirsty as ever when he came down to it. If he knew she was going after Thanos, he would want to join in, no matter what. As much as she wanted to keep it a secret from him, she was more worried about how he would react if he found out the truth from someone else. “Just...Nebula and I have been thinking about leaving the school for a little while to look for Thanos. We can no longer just sit by and watch him hurt others who do not deserve it.”

“Leaving?” Drax was looking at her as if he had never heard of such a concept. "You would leave all of this behind?”

“It’s not forever,” she protested.

“You and I both know the chances of your return after confronting Thanos are abysmal,” Drax snorted. “I mean no offense, Gamora, but he is unmatched in strength. I certainly do not need to tell _you_ that.” She nodded, sighing. “Well, if you wish to take him on with no reinforcement, then I wish you luck. But this planet will suffer a great loss without you here to protect it. And our team will have lost our greatest warrior, leader, and friend.”

Gamora found herself completely thrown for a loop, unsure of how to answer what was likely the highest praise she had ever heard Drax offer, and it was to _her_ , no less. “I - you - you’re... _not_ asking to join us?”

“Of course not,” Drax chuckled. “I have learned well from the evaluations you and Quill have made of me. My rash behaviour, my lack of practiced discipline, it will do you no favours out there. I have no desire to hinder you and Nebula. Besides, I have found peace within myself, and need no revenge to satisfy the unceasing pain Thanos has caused me. My new purpose in life is here, on Terra. A new family, to honour my old one.” He turned to look at her, a sad smile on his face. “We would all greatly prefer for you to stay, of course.”

“As everyone’s been telling me,” she sighed. “I don’t want to think about how Nebula would react if I changed my mind, _again_.”

“Well, it is clear to me that Nebula genuinely loves you, despite her harsh words and actions that suggest otherwise,” he said thoughtfully. Nebula was standing several feet away, eyes narrowed as she watched her classmates dancing with abandon. Yondu had tried to drag her out with him, but predictably, she had refused and threatened to gouge his eyeballs out, so now Yondu was somewhere in the middle of a circle of girls, trying his best to make them laugh. “She would be angry, as she always is, but she would forgive you. She knows how much we mean to you, and you to us. Don’t let Nebula make your decision for you. You deserve to make your choice for yourself.”

Gamora felt tears welling up in her eyes at Drax’s words, and she quickly moved to wipe them away. “Thank you, Drax. That’s very kind of you to say.”

He nodded before moving to wrap her in a giant hug, enveloping her in his incredibly large arms. He squeezed a little too tight, as if he were unaware of his own strength, but it was a comfort to know that her relationship with Drax had come so far. “You are my friend, Gamora. I trust you will know, in your heart, what is right for _you_.”

Drax released her as she inhaled sharply, trying her best to recover before Peter could see and immediately try to fix the problem, as often tried to do. It was then that she noticed Drax also looked melancholy, though differently than before. “Something on _your_ mind?” she asked.

He was quiet for so long she wondered if he had heard her at all, his arms folded over his chest, closing himself off. “I miss Hovat.”

Gamora’s heart broke a little for Drax. His usual moods were often either rambunctious violence or infectious laughter, so it was sometimes too easy to forget he had lost people as well. Drax had told the Guardians the story of his childhood sweetheart, whom he had met at a school dance much like this one. She had not moved a single muscle despite the catchy music, and right then and there, he knew she was the one. They had been together for an unusually long time for a school-aged relationship, and had started talking about marriage and children after finishing their studies, until she and Drax’s relatives were killed by Thanos. Gamora knew little else about Hovat, but she knew that they had wanted a daughter.

Before she could say something, _anything_ , that could possibly make up for what Thanos had done to Drax, Mantis and Peter practically bounced over to them, grinning from ear to ear in guileless joy. When they saw Drax’s face, Peter looked over to Gamora in confusion, but Mantis simply stepped forward and gently laid a hand on Drax’s forearm. Gamora moved as if to stop her, concerned that Mantis was about to use her powers, but the other girl’s antennae never moved as she said, “Should we go get some air?” Drax nodded wordlessly, allowing Mantis to lead him outside while she began an excitable monologue about all the fun songs she and Peter had danced to.

“What happened?” Peter asked.

“Nothing,” Gamora said, fixing him with a stare, silently pleading for him not to pry. “You’re a mess, Peter.” She pulled out his pocket square so she could wipe at the beads of sweat forming along his hairline. He only laughed in response.

As if on cue, the music switched to something slower, more sensual. Peter took it as a sign, and offered his arm to her again. “Ready to head back out there?”

* * *

At this point in the evening, large groups of friends and teams had started heading back to the tables to take a break, while couples who had been sitting out the fast-paced songs were now making their way onto the dance floor. Elektra, who was guiding Matt with a gentler touch than she had ever had in her entire life, winked at Gamora as she and Peter made their way back.

_Long ago and far away...I dreamed a dream one day...and now...that dream is here beside me..._

“Is there such a thing as slow songs that aren’t about love?” Gamora half-grumbled. Her nerves were alight wherever Peter was touching her - one hand clasped in hers, the other splayed across the small of her back. Their thighs brushed with every step, his face hovering mere inches from hers. _I could kiss him right now if I wanted to_ , she thought.

“I’m sure there are, but personally, love songs are kind of my favourite,” Peter replied. As if he had read her mind, he ducked his head to press a kiss at the crook of her jaw. His eyes flickered upwards briefly to meet Yondu’s, who was back at their table, watching them. He nodded in approval, raising a glass as if to toast to them. Feeling brave, Peter nuzzled a little further into her neck, catching a whiff of her perfume as he did, before drawing back so he could observe her.

_Just one look and then I knew...that all I longed for...long ago was you..._

Warm from Peter’s gaze, Gamora leaned forward to rest her chin on his shoulder, watching other couples as a means of distracting herself. She could see the respect and trust in Steve and Peggy’s faces, their eyes never leaving each other once. Jessica was uncharacteristically soft, her usual tense, hard-edged posture completely lax in Luke’s giant, but gentle embrace. Misty and Danny, Billy and Teddy, and _oh_ , Natasha and Clint. Gamora lifted her hand from Peter’s arm to wave at Natasha, who seemed happy to be back with him, if not in the romantic sense quite yet.

As the music continued on, Gamora could feel her feet start to ache a little - she wasn’t used to wearing stilettos - but she had no desire to walk away just yet, though the lyrics of each song were increasingly hitting home, to the point of her feeling a little more than paranoid.

_Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me...while I'm alone and blue as can be...dream a little dream of me..._

_Is your heart filled with pain...shall I come back again...tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight..._

_You've gone away...this aching heart of mine is singing...lover, come back to me..._

_After you've gone...and left me crying...after you've gone...there's no denying..._

_We'll meet again...don't know where…don't know when...but I know we'll meet again some sunny day..._

Personally, Gamora was starting to think someone was out to get her, though as far as she could tell, Peter wasn’t the one who had chosen these songs. He did, however, notice she was becoming uncomfortable, her shoulders more rigid than before, her eyes darting around the room like she was expecting something to jump out at her.

“You feeling okay? It’s almost 11, and I’m fine, but if you wanna leave…”

“One more song, and I might want to call it a night,” she replied, grateful that he had noticed. She wasn’t sure if she was ever going to speak up, trapped between wanting to stay forever, and wanting to go before the songs left her devastated. “I’ve been so tired lately.”

“Understandable.” He squeezed her hand in sympathy. “Hey, I’m glad we got to do this together, you know? Have something normal in our lives for once. And it’s been the perfect night. Too bad they haven’t played anything I suggested, that would really seal the deal.” Then, as if the entire universe were out to get Gamora, a familiar piano strain began to play, causing Peter’s eyebrows to shoot up in surprise.

“Peter…”

He didn’t respond, instead electing to rotate them slightly, guiding her with the hand on her back, so Gamora was turned away from the crowd, focusing solely on him. He tipped his head downwards so his nose was pressed into her hair, his mouth ghosting over her ear, as he began to sing along.

“ _If you ever...change your mind...about leaving, leaving me behind…_ ”

Her fingers dug deep into his shoulders, leaving indents in his jacket. He didn’t seem to notice, though, rubbing slow circles into her back as if to reassure her that he was right there.

“ _Bring it to me, bring your sweet lovin’...bring it on home to me_ …” He fell silent as the song continued. They were barely taking any steps at this point, basically swaying on the spot as other couples moved slowly but steadily around them. “Have you thought about your last question yet?”

_I know I laughed when you left...but now I know I only hurt myself…_

“Not yet,” Gamora said weakly, loosening her grip. “You seem quite confident in yours.”

“I’ve been denying myself of asking for a while now,” Peter replied. “Didn’t think there would be a good time for it.”

_I'll give you jewelry and money too...that ain't all, that ain't all I'll do for you..._

“Did you want to ask now?”

He smiled. “Maybe it’s a little cowardly of me, but I only want to ask when I’m sure of the answer.”

“Then what’s the point of asking?” She was beginning to grow frustrated. Peter wasn’t usually this evasive, had never been one to talk so mysteriously. He talked in circles at times, yes, but never did he purposely try to confuse her the way he was now.

“You’ll see.”

_You know I'll always be your slave…till I'm buried, buried in my grave…_

“You’re doing it again,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him. “Peter, what did I say about being honest?”

“You gotta let me have this,” he said, a sudden desperate pleading in his eyes. “Gamora, _please_.”

The hazy, intimate, almost dream-like bubble of their surroundings had “popped” for Gamora, and she couldn’t help but feel soured by Peter’s odd behaviour. She pulled away from his grasp. “I can’t finish this song,” she said quietly. “I think I’m done for tonight.”

Peter looked understandably disappointed. “I guess we _have_ done this one before,” he sighed. “Can I walk you back, at least? Milano, or the dorms?”

“Milano,” she said firmly. She didn’t want to spend another night staring at blank walls again. At least the stickers in her bunk would provide some comfort, though she was hesitant about whether she wanted to share a bed with Peter, or if he was even going to offer, considering how tense they had both become so quickly.

The other Guardians sent them curious looks as they made their way to the doors, but Peter only patted Yondu on the shoulder and gave Mantis a quick hug before they left, otherwise choosing not to stop and talk. They walked in terse silence, a good three feet apart instead of with their hands laced together as they usually did. Peter was inexplicably on his phone the whole way, tapping away on his screen at a speed that suggested he was attempting to write a novel before they returned. Increasingly irritated, Gamora picked up her pace until she was a solid ten feet ahead, and was practically marching the rest of the way until they got to the loading bay.

“Gamora,” Peter called to her. “Can we sit? And talk? Please?”

Part of her wanted to roll her eyes and walk away, but hell, Gamora wasn’t sure how many more chances she would get to do this, so she would take what she could get. Besides, she had already made up her mind about what to do. It was blindingly obvious, in retrospect, but frankly, Peter’s behaviour had her wanting to make him sweat a little, savouring her decision for tomorrow as initially planned.

She sat next to him on the floor by the side flank of the Milano, and began to peel off her gloves. She removed her necklace and shoes as well, letting out a soft sigh as she wiggled her toes, freeing her feet of their increasing stiffness. “Can you help with the hair? I’ve got pins in places I can’t reach.” The tension in her body began to dissipate as his fingers worked their way through her hair.

“You have a good time tonight?”

“I did. It kept me from thinking about everything that’s been happening, at least for a little while.”

“Yeah, we’ve had some pretty crazy stuff go down these past few months.” Peter gently eased out the last of the bobby pins. His fingers slid back into her hair, feeling around for others, easing out the tangles in the process. Gamora felt the warmth stir in her belly again, remembering the way she’d imagined Peter’s hands to feel like. “Y’know...if you _do_ end up staying, I think we should take a couple months off of galaxy-wide missions. Stay here on Earth, prioritize a little. We keep diving back in - or rather, _out_ there - and it’s been screwing us over, a _lot_. We’ll pull in a pretty substantial amount of units from the yearbook contest, do some small missions here and there for a bit to keep us afloat. Hell, maybe I’ll get a part-time job.”

“You’re that worried about money?” Gamora turned around to face him. “We’ve been running the budgets together since the beginning, Peter. Is there something you’re not telling me? Aside from, you know, _everything else_?”

He ignored the jab. “No, it’s just.” He stopped himself, exhaling harshly. “Look, even if you don’t leave now, you’re gonna want to eventually. And you need money to get around, get food and supplies, whatever. I want to make sure we have enough set aside for that to happen, especially if it’s happening right _now_.”

Gamora found herself unable to respond. Time and time again, Peter was always surprising her, and for once, he had done it in a good way. Whenever she wanted to go over their money, he had waved her off, saying he would just spend less on take-out next month. Yet, here he was with a contingency in place for something that should never have even happened. It seemed like he had matured a great deal in the short time she had known him, become a true leader. Secretly, Peter thought the same of her, the way that her newfound understanding of people had brought her to equal ground as well.

While Gamora thought things over, Peter had pulled up a movie on his phone and was projecting it on the side of the ship. It was _The Princess Bride_ again, one of the only romantic movies he had known her to favour, likely because of the sword fighting and not the love story. They watched in silence, and unlike all the other times, sat a distance away from each other, as if they were scared that physical contact was going to lead them elsewhere.

“ _Since the invention of the kiss, there have been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind_.”

At those words, Gamora could take it no longer. Her last question had suddenly become incredibly clear. Really, she had been denying it so long, dragging everything out when it could be so _simple._  She leaned over to pause the movie despite having only a minute left, and said, “Last question. Why haven’t you asked me to stay?”

Peter’s face went utterly blank, an expression she couldn’t place in any range of emotions known to man. It scared her a little - _Peter_ , who was usually like an open book, lacking the tells she had come to love about him. He picked up his phone, stood, and held out his hand for her to take. He led her into the Milano, set his phone down on the table, and moved to one of the cabinets near the weapons storage. She watched in astonishment as he pulled out a plastic tub and upended all of its contents onto the table.

Documents, photographs, bits and pieces of things she couldn’t even identify upon first glance, spilled across the surface. Gamora took a cautious step forward, picking up the first thing that caught her eye. A stained receipt for a bar on Knowhere, the one where Rocket and Drax had fought, where she and Peter had first danced. There was a phone number on the back that she recognized to be the Collector’s private line.

Another item - one of the anulax batteries that Rocket had stolen, which was now burnt out after his initial attempts to make a bomb for Ego.

Ticket stubs for their day at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The log they had used as Groot’s temporary arm. The receipt for the pizza he had bought for their six-month anniversary date. Multiple copies of the photos they had taken together over the past three months, documenting their “relationship”.

 _Of course_ , Gamora thought. _Peter has always been a sentimental person. It’s what keeps his head held high, and what can crush him in an instant if good memories are sullied by another_. She hadn’t heard him listen to _Brandy (You’re A Fine Girl)_ since encountering Ego, and suspected that she never would again.

Beyond the sentimental items, she spotted stacks of fake IDs, lists of names and phone numbers, brochures and pamphlets neatly clipped together with vouchers and profiles, tucked away in manila folders or crisp, unmarked white envelopes. The fake IDs sported photos of her and Nebula, with various fake names and birthdates, along with false racial identities (Nebula would _hate_ for anyone to think she was Kree, and yet it was the most recurring one Gamora could spot, likely because Kree were much more common than Luphomoids. Gamora, of course, being the only Zehoberei alive, needed to be given new identities entirely).

She couldn’t make sense of anything until she picked up one small package labeled “Berhert”. Inside were notes about their first time on Berhert where Ego had come to “rescue” them, the second, in which Gamora successfully retrieved Nebula, and then the third, also known as the “Brionne incident”. There were maps, print-outs, and articles detailing the life on the planet, ranging from the flora to the fauna, all the known bases of operations that existed.

Another labeled “Xandar” - a long contact sheet of all the Nova Corps officers they had become acquainted with, articles about the Guardians’ activity on the planet, reports of Thanos’s sightings, including his most recent attack. There were also lists of weapons depots, pawn shops, and safehouses.

As Gamora made her way through every package, Peter watching her silently, she could see, quite clearly, how detailed everything was, how much time and effort it must have taken to gather every last resource they had. She glanced at Peter’s phone off-handedly, only to notice that instead of displaying the movie, he had pulled up what looked to be a transferable databank, easy to transmit to any other phone, consisting of the hundreds of contacts he had across all the packages, along with GPS coordinates for every location he had listed.

Peter didn’t have just twelve percent of a plan. He had nearly everything she and Nebula would need to take on Thanos.

“Peter,” she breathed, unsure of what else to say. He walked towards her almost shyly, his expression soft, warm, _loving_.

He cupped her face in his large hands, running a thumb across her cheek. Her arms automatically went around his waist, pulling him closer. They were quiet for a moment, the only notable sounds being the music from prom, and the persistent hum of the Milano’s systems hard at work. She was reminded of the hotel room, the noises of city life roaring around them as they had danced.

“I know you hate it when I don’t have a plan,” he began, causing her to chuckle into his shoulder. “I also know you hate big gestures, so really, this might be the worst thing I’ve done so far. But hear me out. I’m not asking you to stay, simply because I know you want to go. And if that’s what you want, then it’s what I want, too. I also wanna help, and I’ve become a pretty good tactician, so I wanted to do this for you, get you guys off the ground, because I know you’ve been distracted about whether you even wanted to do it in the first place. I’m not gonna pretend like I know better than you about this stuff, because I don’t. I talk a lot of shit about being this amazing leader, but half of the reason why I do good work out there is because I’ve got _you_ with me, taking on anything and everything far beyond what I can handle, being the most _incredible_ partner in... _everything_ that I could ask for, _beyond_ anything I could ask for. You’ve always been more confident, more capable, and I’m not saying that so you’ll talk me back up, I’m saying it because I believe it’s true. What I’ve done here...it’s not complete, it’s not perfect, I probably messed up somewhere, I dunno, but I wanted to be able to do this for you, because…”

He stopped himself, taking a shaky breath. He leaned forwards, resting his forehead against hers, clutching her hands in his between their chests. Gamora could feel her own heart beating wildly in her chest, like it was trying to escape.

“Last question for you.” His voice had dropped to a whisper. “After everything we’ve been through together - how we’ve suffered, how we’ve prevailed, every single time we fought _with_ each other and _against_ each other, whether we lost or won - I know you _know_ , but do you _believe_ me...when I tell you that I’m in love with you?”

 _Oh_.

Gamora tipped her chin upwards, her lips just barely brushing against his. “You’re right,” she whispered. “I don’t like big gestures. But this isn’t one of them. In fact, I’d consider it, as I’ve said, a sign of love. As is this.” With that, she closed the gap, moving her hands away from his chest to his shoulders as she kissed him with everything she had - every song they had listened to, every danced they had shared. The movies they had watched, the training sessions they had fought, the missions they had endured. The laughter, the arguments, the silences in between, all for this very moment.

It took her a second to realize Peter had wrapped his arms around her waist and had lifted her off the ground, her entire weight resting against him. She could feel wetness on both their faces, though she wasn’t sure which one of them had started crying - it was probably Peter. He set her back down and pulled away, eyes glossy, before leaning back in to capture her mouth again, this time more hungrily, as if to affirm it was truly happening, that she was really here. It was unlike the other kisses they had shared, even the ones during prom, when they had been pretending it was still pretend.

After what felt like both hours and seconds at the same time, Gamora moved backward, though she gripped at the lapels of his suit jacket as if he were going to suddenly vanish in thin air, should she let go. “I believe you, Peter Quill,” she replied, almost giddy. “And I’m in love with you, too.”

He beamed so widely and unselfconsciously, that she could feel her own cheeks burn with the intensity of her returning grin. “I wasn’t planning on telling you at first, because it seemed like a selfish thing to do,” he said, shaking his head with a self-deprecating chuckle. “But I’m not telling you so you’ll stay, I’m telling you so you’ll know why I’m helping you leave. Did that...did that make any sense at all?”

“It’s the kind of odd logic I’ve come to expect of you,” Gamora laughed, leaning in to kiss him again.

It started off gentle, as sweet and innocent as any first kiss could be, though it was perhaps one of two or even three dozen kisses they had already shared before tonight. Surprisingly (or perhaps unsurprisingly), Gamora was the one who deepened it, her mouth falling slightly open so she could push her tongue into Peter’s mouth. Heat emanated from her body again, a desperation beginning to build in between her legs, and she could take it no longer, now that she was so close. Her hands moved to his tie, fumbling slightly as she attempted to undo it without pulling her mouth away from his. Peter eventually had to let go, albeit reluctantly, so he could help her loosen it, though his eyebrows shot up when her hands then reached for his belt. “Gamora…?”

“I told you...I’ve been thinking about you,” she said, her breath coming out heavier than she intended. She looked up at him through her lashes, biting her lip in the way she knew left him dazed. “This isn’t me being rash, or desperate, or whatever it is you think is happening. This is me having thought about it, about what I want to do _with_ you and _to_ you. _Extensively_. I want this if you want this.”

Peter’s pupils darkened near instantly, his head tilting once more, a half-cocky smirk taking place. “Okay,” he said, his voice low. “Yeah, I _definitely_ want this.” Without another word, his hands slid downwards to cup her backside, lifting her up so her legs went around his waist, her hands gripping tightly onto his shoulders. She buried her face into his neck, inhaling the intoxicating scent of cologne and post-dance sweat that was just so _Peter_ , before beginning to mouth at his jawline, sucking bruising kisses along his throat. She only pulled away once to moan into his shoulder as he gave her a generous squeeze.

He carried her into his room, slowly lowering her onto the mattress, reluctant to let go. He paused to stare down at her, admiring the sight of her in his bed in an entirely new context, before kneeling over her, capturing her mouth again. Impatient, Gamora tugged at his pants again, causing Peter to laugh before moving to undress her. His lips continued to wander over her face and neck as he slowly slid her dress off her body, letting out a soft sigh at seeing her exposed skin for the first time, the curve of her hips and the swell of her chest. She barely let him go long enough so he could carefully set her dress aside before yanking him back, fingernails digging into him as he began unbuttoning his shirt, mouth moving to his neck again. “G’mora - you gotta give me a second - _oh_ \- ” He interrupted himself with a desperate whine as her head dipped further downwards, biting at the base of his throat, possessive. _Mine_.

Finally, Peter managed to reduce them both to their underwear, laying them back down again so he could kiss her, though Gamora was clearly desperate for him to get on with it, her grip becoming vice-like, leaving almost painful pinpricks in his back. He grinned against her mouth before moving down her front, leaving open-mouthed kisses on her chest and her stomach, savouring the taste of her skin. Peter lifted his head to look at her as she sat up slightly, gaze fixated on him, her eyes even darker than usual.

“If you need me to slow down or stop, just say so,” he said, his tone both gentle and lustful. Gamora nodded, slightly confused at what Peter was intending on doing, until she realized he was pulling her underwear off and tossing it aside, shuffling himself further down until he was practically kneeling on the floor. Giving her one last wicked smirk, a purely Peter expression of both confidence and pride, he slowly pushed her knees apart, lowering his head between her legs. With a gasp, she squeezed her eyes shut and threw her head back, her fingernails now gripping at the sheets, desperate to find something to anchor herself to, as Peter’s hands slid up her thighs so he could brace her hips, pinning her to the bed.

It wasn’t exactly how Gamora had intended to end her night, her best case scenario being that Peter would want to stay up with her, talking, finally trying to convince her to stay. However, it seemed as if he had found another (frankly, much better) use for his mouth after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We made it, y'all! I did say things were going down this chapter, correct? I know, I'm mad at myself for the stupid joke, too. Of course, Gamora may have made up her mind at this point, but _you_ don't know what she's decided on just yet ;)
> 
> Some links - [Peter and Gamora's outfits](https://68.media.tumblr.com/c98b2eaaf167235183ca801fa150b1d1/tumblr_ovzbtnoypI1r8vhq9o1_540.png), and [Yondu, Nebula, and Mantis's outfits](https://68.media.tumblr.com/b15ffe3dbe0510bcbc6934f7e7907508/tumblr_ovzbtnoypI1r8vhq9o2_1280.png). Complete prom song list, if you're curious: [Cheek to Cheek](https://open.spotify.com/track/5OHZ5in2h3NLndNHCnJzEX), [Puttin' on the Ritz](https://open.spotify.com/track/4A13QUgnwrOeaaD54yqSIQ), [Long Ago and Far Away](https://open.spotify.com/track/3hyRlo8HN4dsby2LE2jXtn), [Dream a Little Dream of Me](https://open.spotify.com/track/66Ra2l0vQTGFBcCL8vUwlI), [Are You Lonesome Tonight](https://open.spotify.com/track/4wM7V31TsZzzDBEH02Hltb), [Lover Come Back To Me](https://open.spotify.com/track/7wR3nPPlaoSW4NAJPkV9qS), [After You've Gone](https://open.spotify.com/track/2IA4zDsJc7jwyz0HpeNYqv), [We'll Meet Again](https://open.spotify.com/track/1SdPyDGELsSaJJqKlGshHt), and of course, [Bring It On Home to Me](https://open.spotify.com/track/5EoYc5wvRYOtkudLfrjsL1).
> 
> Epilogue is going to be on Friday and not Monday, since I have a little extra surprise to go with it. Thank you a million times over for the comments and kudos, I hope you loved this fic as much as I loved writing it!


	21. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff, fluff, and did I mention fluff?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know about you guys, but I legit felt sad when I finished editing this chapter. I hope you like this not-epilogue (I only called it that so I can claim this has twenty chapters for the title) as much as I do!

Gamora woke to the feeling of something - or more accurately, _someone_ \- rather heavy sprawled on top of her, pressing her into the mattress, and a mouth pressing lazy, gentle kisses up the column of her throat. She blinked open slowly, and was greeted with the sight of those ever-so-familiar constellation stickers among photos of herself with the boy that was quite literally weighing her down, the view only slightly obscured by his mop of hair.

“Did I wake you? Sorry.” Peter’s voice was hoarse, but he didn’t sound all that sorry at all, lifting himself up and away from her neck, only to settle back down so they were nose-to-nose, his eyelashes nearly brushing against hers. The greens of his eyes dominated the greys at this time of morning, despite the lack of natural light in the Milano’s cabins.

“You aren’t sorry,” she informed him, hands sliding around to the back of his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. Then she changed her mind, because his breath smelled kind of terrible. They really needed to have a discussion about the absence of mouthwash in Peter’s oral hygiene routine. “Mmm, what time is it?”

“Like, 10 something, I dunno.” He feigned hurt at her pulling away, but then ducked right back down again to kiss the crook of her jaw, one hand moving up to tenderly brush her hair out of her face, the other sliding over her belly, rubbing soothing circles across her bare skin. “Does it matter? It’s Saturday.” His hands traveled downwards, eventually coming to rest on the underside of her thighs and pushing her legs up, hooking her knees around his hips. It was then that she realized they were still completely naked, now that she could feel Peter’s interest pushing against her hipbone.

“It is,” Gamora whispered, trying her best not to let him distract her. “It is Saturday.” Peter seemed to have suddenly remembered the weight of the day, the promise she’d made, and suddenly let go, his hands falling away from her body. Frowning, she reached for them again, tangling their fingers together. “Peter, I made up my mind last night. Before...this. Before we had sex, before we told each other that we loved each other. You know that, right?”

“I - no, I didn’t.” He turned his head slowly, an uncharacteristic fearfulness in his gaze. His jaw had tensed, as if to brace himself for impact.

She released his hands so she could cradle his face in hers, smiling gently at him. “I already decided I was going to stay,” she murmured. “And before you get any ideas, it’s not just because of you.”

“Aw, man,” he laughed, instantly relaxing again. He wound his arms around her waist, rubbing her back. She wasn’t sure why Peter had started doing it almost subconsciously - even during sex, he had constantly kept his palms open and soft against her skin, while her grip on him had left scratches up his back that she was somewhat proud of - but she certainly welcomed the comforting gesture. “And here, I thought my sheer awesomeness won you over. Or my di - ”

“Please don’t subject me to crude jokes about your penis if you ever intend for me to touch it again,” Gamora huffed, smacking him on the shoulder.

“Okay, okay, I give.” Peter buried his face in her neck, pressing another kiss into her jugular. “Sorry, go on.”

“As I was saying, it’s not just because of you, it’s...it’s _everyone_. I’ve spent my whole life thinking I would have to go at everything alone, and now we have this group of people that we love, and love us in return. It would be cruel of me to assume so little of the support system we’ve built here, to not trust them to be every bit as powerful as they are, to leave them out in the cold. Your plans solidified this train of thought for me - if just _one_ person can already do _that_ much work, imagine what the entire school could do if _everyone_ knew what was happening.”

“So you’re saying you wanna tell the whole student body that Thanos is coming?”

“Maybe that’s exactly what I’m saying.” They gazed into each other’s eyes for a few moments, Peter’s becoming impossibly soft, his hands stroking her sides absentmindedly. “There’s no easy solution, Peter. But I think it’s about what is right, not what is easy.”

He smiled, leaning forward to peck her on the mouth despite her previous hesitation. “Told you - you can _definitely_ be in charge of motivational speeches from now on,” he mumbled against her lips. She smiled, allowing him to deepen the kiss for another minute.

“Also, I never did thank you for all the work you did,” Gamora added, pulling away. “I didn’t mean to get so angry, I just...after what we almost admitted to each other, I couldn’t understand why you were still keeping secrets from me. But you’re entitled to have them, okay?”

“I have nothing to hide from you,” Peter murmured. “I mean, maybe before we started pretending, I would’ve never told you that stuff about my nightmares, or all the stories about my mom, but now I honestly can’t think of a single thing I wouldn’t tell you. Because I want to tell you _everything_.” She shivered a little at the implications. “Not that _you_ have to do that, I know there’s stuff you don’t even want to share with yourself. But I want you to understand what kind of guy I am, because I’m not the asshole you met back in the Conservatory. That guy doesn’t deserve you. But maybe now, I do.”

“You’re right, but not about that,” she said quietly, pressing her nose into his cheekbone, kissing him. “I would’ve never thought the boy who sat down at my table and started going on about how I was going to tell him top-secret information could be so unsure of himself. And that’s something we can work on together, because as much as your arrogance drives me mad, your constant need to undermine yourself and sacrifice yourself for us worries me _so_ much more.”

“I - thank you.” Peter nuzzled into her jaw, tightening his embrace. “I know I said it a million times last night, but you really are, just, the most... _amazing_ girl I’ve ever known. You’ve been through so much, and my crap probably looks really silly compared to what you’ve had to endure, but you still do so much for me when you don’t have to. I wanna make up for it by doing more for you.”

“We don’t have to ‘tie’ on what we do for each other,” she said, frowning. “It’s not a competition.”

“I know, I know. I just mean that I don’t want you to feel like you’re taking on all _my_ burden and I’m not doing the same for you. And by the way, I reserve my right to be incredibly sappy with you for at _least_ the entire weekend, because I thought I was never gonna see you again. Deal?”

She laughed softly. “Deal.”

Gamora eventually gave in to Peter’s affections and overcame her distaste for his breath, as they made out slowly, languidly, for a few minutes, like they had nowhere else to be. And right now, it really felt like they didn’t. There was no imminent clock ticking, no job to be finished, no anniversary to plan, no deadline to be met.

Eventually, to her displeasure, he pulled away right as her hands had started to wander south. “While we’re having this whole super honest discussion going on, how _was_ last night for you? And I’m not asking for a performance review, before you slap me again. I mean, I didn’t think you would have the greatest opinion about sex. I just assumed there would be a good chance you wouldn’t want to have it.”

“I was never actively avoiding it or anything,” she said thoughtfully. “I just wasn’t inclined. I always pictured a sort of faceless person, if that makes sense, until I met you.”

“You sure know how to flatter me,” he grinned.

In one fluid movement, Gamora flipped them over so Peter was now flat on his back, her knees braced on either side of his waist, staring down at him with a wicked smile. Peter let out a tiny “whoa”, gazing up at her with a look in his eyes that suggested he was somewhat startled, but mostly aroused. “Flatter you? I’d also _miss_ you if I _did_ end up going. So, new plan. I’m going to stay in bed all weekend, preferably with you for _extensive_ periods of time, and then we can get back to work on Monday, go over everything you’ve collected, and come up with new strategies for taking on Thanos, _together_. Does that sound reasonable to you?”

“I. Yes. Very reasonable,” Peter croaked. His eyes were slowly traveling downwards from her face to the rest of her exposed skin. She sighed internally, because of _course_ this was the best way to get Peter to comply. Then again, maybe it would make a decent negotiation tactic as well. She was tempted to try it someday.

It was another hour or so before they finally managed to get out of bed. Gamora especially was feeling pleased with herself, considering Peter seemed almost incoherent by the end. He offered to duck into her room and grab some clothes for her in case anyone else was on the ship (she winced at the thought of anyone being within earshot for the last ten minutes in particular), but she shook her head with a mischievous grin. He watched in awe as she crossed the room to put her underwear back on, then grabbed one of his T-shirts off the floor and pulled it over her head, the hem falling to her mid-thigh. “Did I ever tell you how much I love it when you wear my clothes?” he murmured, admiring her as she turned on her heel to look at him.

She kissed him one last time before slipping out the door, heading towards the bathroom. Once she had showered and brushed her teeth, she made her way into the common area, half-hoping she would be able to have a quiet meal alone with Peter, only to find him sitting in the armchair, looking thoroughly chastised. The other Guardians were standing around him in a circle with some of the biggest smirks she’d ever seen. Even Groot had his arms crossed, chin tipped upwards rather smugly.

“Really did a number on him, didn’t ya, girl?” Yondu spoke first, baring his terrible teeth at her. Gamora was unsure of what he was referring to until she stepped closer to Peter, and _oh god_. His room had still been half-dark when she left, but now that he was in the common area, surrounded by large windows, the sunlight revealed a litany of bruises on Peter’s neck and collarbones. If her memory was correct, and it always was, they would continue all the way down to the waistband of his underwear, along with a few she had left on the crease of his thighs. At least Peter remembered to put on a shirt and sweatpants, or they would _really_ be in trouble.

Flushing deeply, Gamora walked into the kitchen instead. “Anyone hungry?” she called hastily. Yondu and Rocket only burst into laughter in response, shaking their heads.

“Dunno, G’mora, you look like you were pretty successful in trying to _eat Quill_!” Rocket hollered, slapping his knee, practically in hysterics. Mantis and Nebula both looked as if they weren’t sure whether to look happy or slightly grossed out at the mental image of their respective siblings having sex. Drax, on the other hand, heartily patted Peter on the back in congratulations (“I had very little faith in you, my friend, but you somehow did it!”), to which Peter only grumbled further as he got out of the chair.

“Is it too late to disown the kids?” Peter mumbled as he joined Gamora in the kitchen. She promptly motioned for him to leave again, because if he just _looked_ at the oven, there was a chance it was going to burst into flames. Pouting, he moved to stand on the other side of the kitchen island and watch as she began preparing scrambled eggs.

“Groot and our sisters may remain. The others - debatable,” she replied dryly, prompting Peter to laugh. He leaned forward to rest his chin on his hands, gazing up at her with a twinkle in his eye that she’d come to recognize was reserved for only her. _He loves me_ , she thought. _And I love him. How about that?_

As the Guardians started making their way around the ship, settling onto the couches while Gamora started cooking, Yondu wandered over to the communal table and began picking at all the things Peter had left there last night. “So this is what you’ve been up to, past couple o’ weeks,” Yondu commented. “Tryna get your girl to go.”

“I am Groot?” Peter turned to see Groot and Mantis staring at him with identical expressions of hurt. Gamora looked up from the frying pan, worried. They had been the only ones to never figure out what was happening, and she had hoped to keep it that way. In her eagerness to drag Peter to bed, she never thought about hiding the evidence of her intentions to leave.

To her surprise, before she or Peter could defend themselves, Nebula spoke up. “We changed our minds. _Again_ ,” she sighed. “It seems that my sister has become irreversibly attached to you all, as...I...have, somewhat...felt, too.” She coughed awkwardly. “Either way, we shall remain on this planet until circumstances change. But obviously, Quill thinks he’s got _everything_ figured out, doesn’t he?”

“Hey, I never said that,” Peter exclaimed. “And when did Gamora tell you she made up her mind? She only told me, like, an hour ago.”

“I may have texted Nebula after you fell asleep,” Gamora admitted.

“You fell asleep on her, hey? Don't got the energy to keep up with her?” Yondu shot Peter a lecherous grin, causing Rocket to dissolve into peals of laughter again.

“Oh my god, can we get over this already? Yes, Gamora and I slept together! I don’t know why you’re all laughing like it’s some big joke, because it was pretty important to _us_ ,” Peter snapped, causing Yondu and Rocket to immediately fall silent. He turned to look back at Gamora, rubbing at his temples - the morning had started off so well, but now he was being reminded of the constant headache of dealing with their team. She gave him a sympathetic shrug and began dishing out breakfast.

“Yes, if we can get back to what we should _actually_ be discussing,” Gamora said firmly. Peter moved into the kitchen to wrap his arms around her from behind, dropping his head to press a grateful kiss into her shoulder. “From what we’ve gleaned, Thanos is moving at random, and is no closer to the Academy than he was last week, six months ago, or even a year ago. It makes him impossible to predict, but it also means that we should still have time to make new plans.”

“Random or not, still means my boys were used as pawns.” Yondu picked up one of the packages Peter had put together, which had a couple photos of the Eclector on the very top, staring down at it wistfully. “They’ll be okay. They got Kraglin. That boy ain’t never shaken by nothing.”

“Which is why we’re gonna work together to avenge them. Nope, that’s not our team name,” Peter said, shaking his head at himself. Gamora let out an exasperated sigh, stepping out of his grasp so she could put the frying pan in the sink. “Guarding the galaxy, right? _That’s_ our job. That includes this planet, _and_ the Ravagers. By the way, we should really get the name trademarked if we haven’t already, because I’ve seen some unofficial merchandise in the city, and it is _not_ flattering…”

* * *

“You are happy,” Mantis said very suddenly, causing Peter to jump. It was a rather lazy Sunday morning for him - Gamora had left a couple hours ago to hit the gym as she often did - so he was just lying around in bed, contemplating the team discussion they had about Thanos yesterday. It had delved into a yelling match as always, causing both Mantis and Groot to feel a little distressed, but it was frankly par for the course whenever they had meetings. He considered it a success when Nebula didn’t threaten to break someone’s nose.

“Hi to you too,” he chuckled, gesturing for her to come in. “Forgot to ask you yesterday - did you have fun at prom? You manage to get Drax to dance?”

“His head bobbed at one point,” she whispered conspiratorially, sitting by his legs. “You should have seen it.”

“Wish I did, though I was kinda busy with something else,” Peter said, sitting up. He paused. “That sounded dirtier than I meant it to be.”

“But that _is_ what happened,” Mantis prompted. “I do not think Yondu and Rocket meant any harm by teasing you and Gamora. We have just been wanting you two to realize the depths of your romantic feelings for each other because we care about you both.”

“I know,” he sighed. “You guys aren’t exactly subtle.”

She looked panicked, her eyes growing impossibly large. “Wait, you knew?”

“Mantis, you had a whole list of ‘dates’ for us to go on when we never really needed to go that far. We literally could’ve told the rest of the school _anything_ and they would’ve bought it. Not to mention _all of you_ going on and on about how we should date for real. You really think I wasn’t gonna figure it out? And I bet you Gamora knew _way_ before I did.”

“We never did get around to the rest of that list,” she said, frowning. “I suppose in a life like ours, we can never plan too meticulously. I was thinking you could serenade her. Or send her flowers. Or chocolate!”

“She would _hate_ the first two, trust me,” Peter laughed. “Plus, she has a secret chocolate stash under her bed that she doesn’t know I know about. I think she’s covered.”

“I guess it does not matter anymore,” Mantis smiled. “You two figured it out eventually.”

“Took us long enough, hey?” He turned himself around so he was sitting right next to her, legs pressed together. “Y’know, Mantis, you’ve done a lot for us - even if it didn’t always work out - I wanna help you, do the big brother thing or whatever. Is there anyone on campus _you’re_ interested in?”

“Would it…” Mantis trailed off, worrying her bottom lip as she twisted her hands in her lap, fretful. “...would it bother you if it was a girl?”

“Hey, no, not at all,” Peter exclaimed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders reassuringly. “You can be into whoever you want, okay? Wait, unless it’s Nebula. _Please_ tell me it’s not Nebula. That would make it really awkward for me and Gamora, from like a familial perspective, and - ”

She made a face. “Um, no. And I am not telling you who it is.”

“Not even a hint? Do I know her? Are you friends with her? Is Gamora friends with her? What’s she - ”

“Peter,” Mantis whined, giggling and prodding him in the side. “Never mind, I take back what I said before. You are the _worst_ brother ever.”

He smiled at her fondly, leaning in to kiss the side of her head. “Love you, too.”

Meanwhile, on the other side of campus, students were walking by the sisters somewhat cautiously, mostly eyeing Nebula, who was eating her chicken salad with more ferocity than required for any sort of meal, ever. The two of them were sitting on a bench outside the campus gym, having lunch after an intense workout.

“You’re glowing. Stop it,” Nebula said after they’d been eating in comfortable silence for about ten minutes.

“ _Glowing_?” Gamora frowned.

“You look unbearably happy. Quill must have done a number on you,” Nebula said, brandishing her fork haphazardly.

“Why do you always assume my mood depends on Peter?” Gamora sighed. “Nebula, I’m happy because I think I finally understand what we’re doing here. What we’re meant to be doing.”

“Educating our classmates on how to defeat Thanos?”

“Something like that, yes. But also just sharing our knowledge and our skills in general. That’s what this whole school is about, isn’t it? Cooperation. Collaboration.” She waved out towards the quad, where students were going about their day as always. “Peter and I were going over the money last night, and it got me thinking. We started this whole ruse to make extra cash, but we never realized how we could actually utilize our _existing_ skillset - fight clinics. The two of us are far beyond the fight training offered at this school, but we could offer to help others the way we’ve done for Mantis. We would start prices quite low, maybe five dollars per session, since there are many students who can’t afford anything more, but we’d suggest for students to pay a little more if they can - Janet, for example. We’ve spent so much time focusing on training ourselves when we could contribute to the entire student body.”

“It’s not the worst idea you’ve ever had,” Nebula admitted. “More money, more weapons.”

“Not necessarily, but I’m glad you’re on board,” Gamora said, smiling. They fell quiet for a few minutes, finishing up their food and drinks, continuing to people-watch as they did. “Are you happy, Nebula?” she asked softly.

“That would require me to know what happiness feels like,” Nebula murmured, looking away. She then tilted her chin up slightly, her pitch-black eyes suspiciously glossy as she stared out at nothing. “I suppose this is the closest I’ll ever get.”

Gamora reached over to squeeze Nebula’s hand, and found herself surprised at how _not_ surprised she was that Nebula didn’t immediately move away. “Not necessarily,” she repeated.

* * *

School resumed on Monday as it always did, the entire campus still somewhat sluggish from crashing down after the euphoric highs of prom. Both Peter and Gamora couldn’t help but feel utterly different than they had on Thursday. The creeping, shadow-like feeling of time running out had faded away in favour of a lightness in their demeanor for simply knowing _and_ believing. Gamora’s head in particular had cleared, allowing her to enjoy herself again without feeling as if every moment was going to be her last on Earth.

It was especially odd, now that she and Peter were no longer faking being in a romantic relationship. Gamora had almost expected people to take notice, maybe see how their affections were somewhat different to the way they had been acting them out, but as far as anyone could tell, it was business as usual. A sense of guilt crept up on her in response, nagging at the back of brain if she didn’t tell _someone_.

“Peter and I are together for real now,” she said to Natasha about five minutes into their sparring session. Natasha nearly dropped her baton in surprise.

“You were faking this whole time.” It wasn’t a question. Gamora nodded, worried she shouldn’t have said anything, or at the very least, checked with Peter about it. “I _knew_ it!”

“And I could tell you were suspicious,” Gamora said, relaxing out of her fight stance to step closer, placing her hands over the other girl’s. “Natasha. Please, I know I shouldn’t ask this of you, but don’t tell Janet. I feel bad enough for duping everyone, and I just wanted to tell _someone_ , even though our relationship isn’t a lie anymore.”

Natasha’s mouth twisted unpleasantly, though she couldn’t help but take pity at the pleading in Gamora’s eyes. “Fine,” she sighed. “But only because I hate seeing Janet cry.” Gamora let out a relieved exhale, stepping away from her. “So. When did you _actually_ start dating?”

“Right after we left prom.” Gamora bit her lip at the memory, the way Peter had taken her face in his hands, the way she had wrapped her arms around his waist. Neither of them had felt so secure with another person in a long, _long_ time. “Although I suppose we haven’t officially cemented our relationship status. A technicality, really. How about you and Clint?”

“We talked some things over. We might try again someday, I don’t know yet.” She looked rather despondent.

“I hope it works out,” Gamora said sincerely. “As Elektra once told me, girls of our pasts, with our histories, we deserve to be happy, surrounded by people who not only appreciate us for who we are now, but understand who we once were.”

“That’s really nice, actually. It hits home for the three of us more than anyone, hey?” Natasha smiled softly. “Alright. Let’s get back into it. You ready?”

* * *

When Gamora returned to the Milano, she slipped into Peter’s room, smiling fondly at the sight of him sprawled out onto his bed, his history reading propped up on his pillow. His brow was furrowed rather adorably in concentration. “Hi.”

“Hey, you’re back,” Peter said, looking up at her with a sappy grin. He rolled onto his side, patting the space next to him, eager for her to join in. Gamora removed her boots and laid down next to him, turning to face him so their chests were pressed together. She kissed him chastely in greeting. “How’d it go?”

“Decently,” she said, laying back onto the pillow. “I told Natasha that we’ve been pretending.”

“Really?”

“I felt guilty,” she admitted. “She won’t tell anyone else, but I just needed to...what’s that saying?”

“Get it off your chest?” Peter guessed. She nodded, pleased he had understood. “I get it. I mean, I don’t feel that way myself, but I get it.” He kissed her cheek, brushing her hair out of her face in a way that made her shiver. “Hey, by the way, I was having trouble with Professor Pym’s truth serum lab from last week, I’ve been meaning to ask you about it.”

“Odd change in topic,” she commented. “I can try to help. What is it?”

He reached for a piece of paper on his nightstand and passed it to her. Confused, Gamora brought it up to her face - she had expected him to hand her a notebook or something, not a single page. Then, she recognized what he had _actually_ given her.

_Things I want in a girlfriend: Funny. Thinks I’m funny. Likes music and movies. Can quote movies. Dances. Strong. Powerful. Beautiful._

Underneath were the scribbles she had asked about before, where he had scratched things out that he claimed were a change of heart, but Peter had drawn an arrow pointing towards said scribbles and continued on:

_Wields a giant sword. Gorgeous red hair. Scolds me for leaving dirty towels on the bathroom floor. Likes to learn about me as much as I love to know more about her. Cuddles me in her sleep. Looks good in anything (and nothing). Doesn’t need me to protect her, but I’d be damned if I didn’t try anyways. Knows that I love her. Believes that I always will._

_Question #21: Will you be my girlfriend? Check one: _Y _N_

He was looking at her so nervously that Gamora wondered what she could have possibly done to make him doubt her answer. “Here’s my question twenty-one,” she said slowly, delighted that he seemed to be continuing their game, which was perhaps even more responsible for their developing relationship than the fact they’d spent three months trying to fake one. “Did you really think I was going to say no?”

“Just checking,” Peter chuckled, relieved, leaning in to kiss her. True to form, Gamora found herself lost in his embrace for a few minutes, until his hands started to slide further down her body. She quickly flipped them so that she would once again be sitting on top of him, giving him a wicked grin.

“Finish your homework, Peter,” she chastised. “Then you can consider this a reward.”

“Fine...but one last thing,” he said, bringing his hands to rest on her hips, squeezing gently. “I made a new mixtape.”

“Awesome Mix 3?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Nah. ‘Songs for Gamora’,” he said softly, passing her his Walkman. She slid the headphones over her ears, a familiar comfort at this point, and pressed play.

_I'm so glad...I've finally found you...yes, that one in a million girl…_

_And now with my loving arms around you...honey, I can stand up and face the world…_

Gamora couldn’t help but lower herself back down to kiss Peter again, allowing him to wrap his arms around her middle, pulling her in close. “Again with the love songs,” she mumbled teasingly against his mouth.

* * *

Of course, life hadn’t suddenly become easier, not when Peter and Gamora were involved. Just four days later, on Friday afternoon after classes had finished, the Guardians were having a meeting on the Milano to review the latest job the Director had sent to them. Though Drax and Mantis were yet to show up for whatever reason, the team leaders were already at each other’s throats, and not in the way that had resulted in the bruises on Peter’s neck that were still yet to fully heal.

“I thought we agreed to not take any jobs off-planet?” Peter protested, throwing the mission docket onto the table.

“This is different, Peter. _We_ were the ones who put Brionne on Xandar, so it’s our responsibility to help them out since she escaped. Is this not what we were meant to do?” Gamora snapped.

“Yeah, _Xandar_ , which means the Nova Corps can handle this. Listen, Fury said we didn’t _have_ to take this job, especially considering what happened last time we dealt with her, so we’re not gonna do it. That’s it, discussion over!”

“When did _you_ become the final say on this team? We have to help them, Peter, we owe them that much!”

“If this results in them making out on the table, I’m never coming to another meeting ever again,” Rocket mumbled to Yondu.

“I just don’t think they should argue in front of the twig,” Yondu whispered back, pointing at Groot, whose head was swaying back and forth between Peter and Gamora like he was watching a tennis match. “Ain’t good for morale.”

Rocket leaned forward to pat the little one reassuringly. “Mommy and Daddy aren’t getting a divorce, Groot, relax.”

“You are _unbelievable_ ,” Gamora hissed. “You are the most stubborn - ”

“ _I’m_ the most stubborn? We said we were gonna stick to Earth, why are you fighting so hard for this? It’s only gonna end badly!”

“Right, I forgot which Peter I was talking to, the one who _doesn’t_ take responsibility - ”

“That is _unfair_ and you know it - ”

“Stop interrupting me!”

“We’re going to be here forever,” Nebula groaned, leaning forward to bang her head on the kitchen counter. Maybe if she knocked herself out, she wouldn’t have to listen anymore. Thankfully, Drax and Mantis entered the Milano a few minutes later, immediately becoming aware of the uncomfortable atmosphere on the Milano as Peter and Gamora glared at each other from the opposite sides of the room.

“What happened?” Mantis said nervously, glancing back and forth between them.

“Where were you?” Gamora replied tetchily in lieu of an actual response.

“Picking up our yearbooks, of course,” Drax said, sounding baffled at the fact they didn’t know, as if it were an everyday occurrence. He hauled out a stack of glossy hardcovers from his backpack, setting them down on the coffee table. Peter, who was closest, grabbed the one off the top of the stack and cracked it open. “Janet informed us that it is Terran tradition to sign each other’s books with some sort of well wishes or a personal message. Mantis and I thought it would be best to bring them back for us to write things for each other first, then join our classmates on the quad afterwards.”

Peter shot a quick glance over the top of his book to watch Gamora pick one of the yearbooks up, but she didn’t even look at him. Sighing internally, he looked back down at his own copy, frustrated. He flipped past the pages that were quite standard for any yearbook - a message from Director Fury, teacher portraits, student portraits - and then stopped at the photos from various school events. The rigidness in his jaw melted away a little at the sight of him and Gamora at prom, his arm around her side, his nose nestled into her cheek like he belonged there. It was crazy to think prom was only a week ago.

“Peter.”

He looked up at the sound of his name to see Gamora standing right in front of him, her own book open to the superlatives. There, in print, was their kissing photo from Shakespeare Park - their very first kiss, though not their first _real_ one - and underneath:

_Cutest Couple - Peter Quill & Gamora _

“Oh,” he breathed, looking back up at her face. The tension seemed to have left her body, a tiny sliver of regret visible in her eyes. Deciding to call a silent truce, he moved his book aside and motioned for her to sit next to him in the armchair, which she accepted with a sharp nod. She slung an arm over the back of his shoulders while resting her other hand on his chest, over his heart.

“I didn’t mean to say you were irresponsible,” she said quietly, eyes darting around as she watched the other Guardians babble excitedly to each other over the various photos. “I just want you to be the team leader I know you’re capable of being.”

“Which is why I want to make the hard call and turn them down in favour of looking out for _us_ ,” he replied, leaning forward to kiss her shoulder. “But I know you want to help. You always want what’s best for the most people. That’s one of the infinite amount of things I love about you.” Peter said it so easily, so casually, that she couldn’t help but turn to meet his gaze. “That’s why we’re _both_ here, isn’t it?”

“Then let’s put it to a vote,” Gamora said, resting her forehead against his. “Majority wins. And we _don’t_ fight about the results afterwards.”

“Deal,” he nodded. Then, smiling, he murmured, “I love you,” tipping his chin upwards so he could kiss her. It was paradoxical, really, how he was never going to get used to being able to kiss her whenever he wanted, and yet it felt like the most natural thing in the world, as if he’d been doing it since the moment they met.

“Love you too,” she whispered when he pulled away.

“Aw, gross,” Rocket groaned. Gamora turned to fix him with a glare, though Rocket had gotten too used to her by now and only snorted, shaking his head in response. “C’mon, we signin’ these or what?”

Gamora stood so she and Peter could grab pens for everyone. The group then fell mostly silent as they passed their yearbooks around in a circle, allowing everyone to write inscriptions for each other. There were quiet giggles as they read the messages left by others, and when everyone was reunited with their own copy, a couple of sniffles of incoming tears as well.

It was then that Gamora could practically hear Drax’s words to her at prom echo in her head. _My new purpose in life is here, on Terra. A new family, to honour my old one._

She could feel her eyes growing wet as she read over everything the others had written for her, messages of love, affection, and appreciation she would never have expected. Even Nebula’s message was sweet in her own way, thanking her for preventing her from going after Thanos alone, and half-thanking her, half-threatening her, with helping to eventually kill him.

Gamora moved to settle down onto Peter’s lap again so they could read their inscriptions to each other, enjoying the warmth of his body pressed against hers, as it had been so consistently for the past few months. He had been listening to music since they started writing, but now his headphones were around his neck, though she could hear another one of his songs from his mixtape for her playing quietly.

_Baby, now that I've found you, I can't let you go...build my world around you, I need you so…_

Smiling, she turned towards her yearbook, tapping out the rhythm on Peter’s thigh as she began to read.

_Dear Gamora,_

_There’s always so much I want to share with you. I always want to tell you about my day, or some cool tradition my mom and I used to have, or some stupid story about how I got in trouble from my time with the Ravagers. I have so much music I’ve yet to get you to listen to, so many movies and TV shows and Terran things that I want you to see so you can understand me even better. But even more so, there’s also so much I want to know about you, even after everything I’ve learned these past two years that we’ve known each other, and especially in these past three months. I mean it when I say you’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met, and I’m so lucky to have you. I know we’ve only been dating for a week, but I feel like I’ve known you forever. I want to you know you forever. I can’t tell if that sounded more creepy in my head or on paper._

_Love, Peter, AKA Star-Lord, AKA your boyfriend (but you already knew that)_

_Peter,_

_Unlike what your father said to you, you did not give me freedom. You didn’t give me anything, really. What you did is share. We share this place we call home, we share happiness and love, and we share this ridiculous, loud-mouthed, irrational and irritating and loyal and wonderful family. Those are all things I never thought I would get to have again, and now I get to share them with you, a boy I thought I would have never looked twice at, but now, could not imagine a life without. I don’t know where we’re going to be a year from now, or even next week, but I hope we never stop being curious about each other, and that we’ll always be in each other’s lives._

_Love, Gamora_

“Would you look at that,” he mumbled, and yup, he was definitely crying. She reached to gently wipe his face with her sleeve, endeared by his open display of emotions. Something she had once thought to be a weakness, a flaw in other beings, that she had now come to realize was truly Peter’s greatest strength. “We had the same train of thought.”

She leaned in to bury her face against his neck, another warm rush of affection filling her entire being. “So let’s start right now,” she said softly.

Peter pulled her in closer, almost impossibly close, tangling their fingers together. “Start what?”

“Our next round of twenty questions.” Gamora smiled serenely. “I never did get to ask what your favourite colour was.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have finally reached the end! I'm honestly an emotional mess over this whole thing. I was coming off the high of watching _GOTG Vol. 2_ in theatres for the third time when I realized that (as far as I know) there were no fake dating fics for Peter/Gamora, and while the movie universe doesn't really bode well for that trope, them going to Avengers Academy sure does. Plus, I'm a sucker for school AUs, so here we are. 
> 
> I didn't think anyone else was going to be interested in this little self-indulgent fic of mine, but I'm super grateful that it turned out to find its following after all. Thank you _so_ much for all the comments, kudos, subscriptions, and bookmarks, I can't tell you how many times I've had a bad day that gets turned around the instant I come back here to read all your lovely words, whether they're long lists about what you liked or just excited capslocking, haha
> 
> Not to be like "please validate me", but if you've enjoyed this fic and want to recommend it, I'd suggest linking/reblogging the little [Tumblr masterpost](http://bevioletskies.tumblr.com/post/165379071859/20questions) I've made to keep things nice and neat.
> 
> Couple more things - I'm gonna reply to all the comments on this epilogue! Whether you're one of my regular commenters, drop in every now and then, or have never commented before, I would absolutely love to hear some last thoughts from you and thank you for being so lovely.
> 
> Next, I have attachment issues and can't let this mashup universe of mine go, so I will be posting the occasional one-shot. You may have noticed I started a few new plot threads in here (Mantis's first date, anybody?) to carry this verse forwards. For the most part, they'll take place _after_ this fic, but who knows, I might want to go backwards sometimes to get more of that sweet, sweet UST. 
> 
> Songs from this chapter are [(Your Love Keeps Lifting Me) Higher & Higher](https://open.spotify.com/track/0SBv9dTwZ9p6kddOUMmOm5), and [Baby, Now That I Found You](https://open.spotify.com/track/0Z4SFts7Vr5fawgauVuZK2), the cheesiest to ever cheese.
> 
> Lastly, a thing I've been working on - a glimpse into [Peter's yearbook](http://bevioletskies.tumblr.com/private/165370142129/tumblr_owb6g3zA2M1r8vhq9), and a glimpse into [Gamora's yearbook](http://bevioletskies.tumblr.com/private/165370139554/tumblr_owb6e7a7v91r8vhq9), complete with all the photos they've taken and messages from _all_ the Guardians! Here's [the list](http://bevioletskies.tumblr.com/private/165370133164/tumblr_owb1bkcl7v1r8vhq9) of their twenty questions as well, since I basically structured the entire fic around how they got to know each other better.
> 
> Thank you again times infinity and beyond (especially if you've made it through this super long list of notes, yikes), I'll see y'all next time!


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